Walking early this morning, it’s evident that the season is over. I know it’s an illusion; I was awoken by drunken revelers at 1 AM and know that they will, eventually, repopulate the street. And yet, the everydayness of town is returning in obvious ways. The Water Department has cordoned off Commercial Street, making preparations for road resurfacing. Shopkeepers seem more relaxed. People are saying “hi” and smiling on the street again. it’s nice.
There’s a sadness to it, too. It’s hard not to sense a tinge of abandonment, which only echoes my existing melancholia. I’m trying to see the possibility in loss, and I’m hopeful that the turn of season here might help me see what can be ahead.
That’s the trick of it, isn’t it? Moving into new terrain. Understanding that change isn’t a respite, but rather a new way of being. Or the potential for new being.