Perhaps it is this murky, rainy weather. Maybe the fact that I am wearing a black turtleneck in August. Possibly the reality that Katie Freeze wrote me a deliciously morose song to record for my demo on Thursday. Whatever the reason, it is beginning to feel a bit autumnal – and am I ever glad.
In recent years, I have learned to embrace the summer. I no longer hide underneath layers of clothing, terrified of blinding people with my pale skin. I have come to understand the joy of barbeques, sunshine, and my bold freckles; everyone in Seattle is cheerful and buoyant in the summer months. I get it. The warmth and the outdoor activities are a welcome change from the grey gloom of winter.
But on the day in late July when the boots are once again for sale at Nordstrom, deep down inside, I rejoice. Blame it on my naturally somber disposition, but I love the cozy melancholy of the darker months.
Three weeks from tomorrow, I embark on The Big Trip, which means that in three weeks, it will be The Fall. I CANNOT BELIEVE IT. After seven years in this amazing city that I have come to call “home,” The Fall is three short weeks away… meaning that in three weeks, I will be a wanderer. I have experienced the odd sensation of “running in place” for about the past month or so; there is nothing that I need to do to prepare for my departure, aside from simply exist and pass the time doing what I always do: wake up, eat breakfast, go to work, spend time with friends, go to rehearsal, walk at least 6-miles, and of course, now, go to hot yoga.
Life feels suspiciously normal. And yet, potentially life-altering changes are afoot. Simultaneously, I feel a thrill at the possibilities, and an anxiety at the reality of what I’ve chosen to do. Which… is kind of a cool place to dwell. But uncomfortable.
Currently, I am grateful for today, a day that points toward the changing season. I need all the preparation I can get. After all, I am a J.