(Alabama, November 2012)
The shift from summer to fall always brings an inexplicable sadness with it. I love all the traditional trappings of the season - football, tailgate parties, pumpkin everything, the colors, the sense of possibility, the absolutely beautiful weather. But even as I revel in these things, something in me grieves a little. Yes, nature going out in a blaze of glory is a sort of sorrowful beauty, but it's more than that. Maybe it's just the passage of time, which I feel even more now than at the New Year. Maybe this is why the Old Testament year turns in fall.
September and November are also riddled with milestones for me. I'm aware, in a way I'm not at other times, that I'm still experiencing life's highs and lows alone and that this might always be the case. I honestly have no idea where I'd find the time and energy to start a relationship - I can't even manage my schedule now. But it's disheartening to have so much to give, so much you want to share, and year after year no one wants or even sees the light in you. Invisibility is hard. All of us, women and men, just need to be seen once in a while. Organically. Ontologically.
Still, I know that this is just fall melancholy. I have no feelings of impending doom about the coming months, which is a blessing. I have an increased sense of hope about other parts of my life, and we'll just see what God does before winter arrives.