if october was a race, i'd come in last
an unexpected moment of stillness in October, the month of change that feels like a race to experience all the 'fall things'. & yet, of all the fall things i did and loved, this one takes the cake
The air smells like cigarettes and wet grass. A combination I never expected to be so comforting. I’m sitting under the tree in the back of our house that turned orange overnight. The birds are grabbing dinner and our neighbors are out on the deck having a heated discussion. Not a glimpse of a breeze in sight. Everything feels… still. But nothing is ever that still, is it?
Onward.
I’m craving a black coffee after the decadent chuck roast my husband made for dinner. Decaf coffee, of course. Something to match the intensity of dinner but not keep me awake past bed time.
The sun is setting.
My chest doesn’t feel so tight. My cravings are satisfied. Who knew being surrounded by the color orange could do that to a person. I feel… safe.
“This is your sign to go to a pumpkin patch”
“POV: you host an autumn themed party”
“Come with me on my mountain getaway”
“Autumn in Paris”
I’ve always thought of October as the month of opportunity. Not January 1st, not birthdays or anniversaries or the first day of summer, no. October.
The month we all need in order to slow down. Like, really, slow down. And here comes an army of social media posts on the offensive ready to inject you with FOMO and a dash of existentialism.
It gets to a gal, I’ll tell you that much.
My husband and I spent the day in the city. It was sunny but cool enough for a light jacket or a trench coat. We held hands on cobblestone, grabbed coffee at a favorite shop of ours, admired the foliage and stopped by new and unknown little shops, all in between people watching. A perfectly mundane outing.
Yet here I am, after a full day of doing things we can do any time of the year, feeling overcome because my clothes are a little thicker and the air is a little more crisp, and I’m with someone I love.
I can’t help but think that if we were to treat every season, every day like this, how much more content we would be. How much better would we be able to show up for ourselves and others when we aren’t so focused on winning the race against no one in this thing called ‘living life to the fullest’ that is mistaken for fancy dinners and cabins every two weeks.
I think the magic of October lies in it’s inevitable and obvious expression of change. It’s validating. But the only way to come out of a season of change thriving is to have unwavering acceptance. October forces us to acknowledge that sometimes we feel like we don’t know what we’re doing, or like nothing is ever enough, but in moments like these, in the quiet, everything is.
“Did you still want your coffee?”, he asks. “I made it special for you.”
“I do”