The bleakness of the passing of Summer..

This marks the week when the autumnal equinox take shape, the summer officially ends in the sun begins its long demise in the northern hemisphere and fades rapidly until rebirth comes at Christmas…
Cue the leaves falling, the rakes, and the pumpkin spice..

I deeply lament the passing of summer this year, mostly because of the speed and ferocity with which it was gone. The heat slammed into our bodies like some supercharged particle of unobtainium, and then suddenly, almost without warning, we’re left with the crushing blow of daylight fading and the night creeping in.

Each winter in life comes after the fall. Autumn can be a beautiful time—the colors, the cool air, the leaves falling—but as one ages, you begin to realize that autumn is also the annual reminder of our own life’s winter. And unlike the seasons, that winter does not eventually give birth to another spring. It settles in, grows colder, and eventually ends in the cold.

Each passing year, winter seems to get a little meaner, a little colder, a little bleaker and a lot more lonely. As we age, we survive the people who go before us, and we’re left trying to understand the strange passage of time and the strange currencies that come with it. Memories become more valuable. Years become more expensive. People become irreplaceable.

And as the fall leaves come down and the gray skies of winter settle over top of us, each tick and tock of the clock gets hauntingly louder, echoing through our very existence.