Labor Day calls, just around the corner; a sunny October morning, with that particular October chill, will pop up any second. Before you know it, it’ll be November, and all the trappings of the holidays will appear with their frenetic energy, and suddenly the year will end.
Welcome, August.
It is undeniable, that the summer is waning. 5:40 a.m. and the sky is determinedly dark. The Naked Ladies are emerging from the ground, shooting straight to the sky, candy-pink and bold as anything, confident as air. The fog – that which hints at the new school year lurking just around the corner – is rolling in and in and in.
Meanwhile, all I want to do is go to the beach with my son, who is still so baby-rounded, who can run and talk but also tumbles and babbles, who is at an age that can only be described as magic. You’ll never get these years back, say the older ones, the wiser ones, and of course I know that; but there are bills to pay, there are foundations to build, there are tasks that the world demands we complete, those that we choose and those that we are given.
Outside, a motorcycle rumbles in the darkness, that unmistakable growl filling the air. My child loves that sound; if he was awake, he would run to the window shouting that he wants to see, reaching his arms up to be lifted and shown. On a walk, he finds them in any corner of any driveway or garage; he’s memorized where they sit on the street. “Mo!” he says. “Mo! Mo! Mo!”
We tour the streets where motorcycles live, and when I am alone, I want to shout out that I found one. Before he came along, they were just…motorcycles. Nothing, really, maybe a slight annoyance. Now, because of my child, they are a delight. A treasure.
His magic spreads and grows.
There’s nothing in this entire world I am more grateful for than the fact that I am here with him, here to witness and enjoy him as he discovers this life. My hope is that I can show it to him well; my hope is that I can keep him safe as he explores.
And all of us: we just keep going and going and going, and days are suddenly years, and everything that was five minutes ago is actually a decade in the past. What a wild reality it is, to discover how fast everything moves. Any minute now, we’ll be standing again at the cusp of summer, watching the days lengthen, wondering what the months ahead will bring; any minute now, we’ll be fooled once more, thinking the season before us is endless.
The Wandering Introvert 