August.

Summer has always been synonymous with fun, letting go, and sunshiny happiness. It has no rules and is down for anything. She invites us outside, tans our skin, cools us down with water games, and teaches us to appreciate the moments in the shade. I am invigorated by the freedom of summer, and nothing will ever top that perfect beach breeze feeling. By the time summer comes, I’ve been yearning for her company for far too long, missing her like I would my right arm.

This summer was especially sweet because it was my first sober. At this point, I am 9 months dry. Before deciding alcohol wasn’t doing anything for me, I could argue for a drink with any activity, especially in the summer sun. I will salivate if I think about a cold beer on the beach for too long. Or an orange crush on the deck while eating seafood? I mean, come on. My sweet friend, sauvignon blanc, I’ve often thought of your cool crispness. So yeah, I still think about drinking. I have plenty of triggers, positive and negative, but I’ve abstained. What tastes better than any of these drinks is choosing myself. I know I am dealing with things better than ever by not drinking. I’m adding years to my life. I am sleeping and waking up better. I have saved stupid amounts of money. And more than that, I’m showing my kids that I am happy to do anything and can deal with anything without any substance supporting me. So summer, despite all her triggers, reminded me of my strength and self-control.

But, like with anything, too much becomes enough. August heat doesn’t bring the same excitement as June. And instead of appreciating August for summer, it starts to feel like fall eve. I do, however, get panic that I haven’t enjoyed summer enough, and it is leaving soon. So, I must fit in all the things immediately, at least 3 times each, squeezing out every last drop of summer for all it’s worth. How many more beach trips can we make before we catch a chill? As I pound the pavement with the last of summer, I truly long for fall.

I’ll always be first in line for the introduction of pumpkin season. Today is August 22nd, and I’ve had more than a handful of Dunkin PSL, bought fall candles, pumpkin cinnamon rolls, and have started reading fall books with the kids.

When I think of fall, I think of coziness, dancing flames, and routine. School has always been centerfold in my life between being a student and a teacher. September feels just as much like a fresh start or the next chapter as the New Year in January. The beginning of fall is a time to refocus and assess where I am, where I want to be, and what I am willing to do to get there.

I love the spontaneity of summer; it feeds a certain part of who I am. But I love the rhythm of fall too. I want to do better at mixing my appreciation for both. Feelings don’t belong to seasons. I want to squeeze the good out of every day with desperation, as I do in August to summer. I want to fondly appreciate my days’ natural rhythm and routine, as I do at the beginning of fall, leaving behind my disdain for monotony come winter.

More than one thing can be true at once. August is a good reminder of that. I can appreciate what I have while looking forward to what’s next.

sniffs pumpkin candle while wearing a bathing suit