The winter solstice has come and gone and I’m left with little more than the promise of a long winter. As I’ve mentioned many times before, I have a softness for marked days. They carry a sort of significance that other days don’t seem to possess. These are the days that indicate beginnings and endings. These are the days that give me hope for the possibility of something new.
This year, the lightness of summer seemed to disappear overnight. The once heavy and humid air of summer suddenly became crisp and cool. My world, once green and lush, transformed into an endless sea of reds and yellow and oranges and it led me to believe that maybe autumn days are the brightest of them all. In the past, my autumns were simply a colorful transition from summer to winter, from hectic to reflective. This autumn, however, was different. In a couple of months, my entire life changed. I jumped three time zones, took the road trip across the country I've been dreaming of, and started a brand new life. So far, it has been the most rewarding adventure I've ever embarked on. And while right now, I'm tired in every way imaginable from my hectic work schedule, I am so happy with the direction my life is heading.
Winter is upon us now, though the lack of snow here in Portland makes it feel less like winter and more like an extension of November. The winter season tends to worry me, as it tends to be a season characterized by an overwhelming melancholia that I can't seem to shake until spring rears its head. But maybe this winter will be different.