It’s official. Fall is here. “But Emily!” you protest, “Surely summer lingers still. It is 80something degrees outside!” Ahh, I say, but the Pumpkin Spice Latte has arrived at Starbucks. Therefore, it is Fall. Q.E.D.
Yes. Pumpkin Spice Lattes at Starbucks, and Halloween lawn decorations at Sam’s club. The seasons are changing.
My younger sister headed back to school today. Though I try not to show it to my sister, school starting always felt more like an end than a beginning to me. And I am not even in school anymore. That is the really weird thing. I still feel morose, and I will never again have to be in school (Unless I go to grad school). Even though I am finally free of the academic binds, the Fall still feels like an end, the loss of summer in all her glory. When I see the trees starting to bleed red and yellow, I mourn for the green. When I see leaves blowing across tennis courts, I know it is time to hunker down, work hard, prepare for the cold, and praise the Lord that Thanksgiving and Christmas make the cold worthwhile.
I want to hate September, but then I remember that this is the season of apples and raspberries and fresh donuts. Who can argue with that? I should just go bake a pie. Yes, that will make me feel better.
I hope that I will be able to change my attitude. School should have never seemed like an obligation. It is a privilege. Autumn should not merely represent the death of summer. It is beautiful, the most colorful time of year. As we are told in Scripture, all of life happens in seasons, and we should embrace the figurative seasons as well as the literal ones. I suppose the reason why this Autumn is particularly pressing is that it represents not only a change of actual seasons but a change of seasons in my life. All summer I have mulled over the fact that no longer being a student has significantly changed my identity. We, and we Americans especially, tend to associate our identity with our occupations, and the class of 2008 is going through a serious career change. We have been students for nineteen years, many of us, and suddenly we are expected to get up and do something completely different, and in many cases, to do it with apparent expertise. This strikes me as very strange. That is why I have taken the summer to think and pray. But as of yesterday, it is September. The summer is ending swiftly, and I should probably get around to trying to make some money. It will mean a change of lifestyle, much less freedom. But I know that I should not treat this as grimly as I do. As surely as God changes the seasons, he also changes the seasons of our lives. Yes, it means change, but I must look for the greater good. I need to find the apples and raspberries of this metaphorical Autumn.