The Season of Gratitude

Estimated reading time: 6 minutes

This year, I vowed I would be different. As summer fades, I promised to find a way to relish the coming season as much as I did the last.

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This past weekend was our last hurrah at the beach for this year, so with heavy hearts, we went through the tedious process of closing the house in preparation for the long cold winter. Chairs were stacked, and any vestige of warm weather was stuffed in the garage.

This process is bittersweet. The welcoming buzz that fills many summer days is replaced by the peaceful isolation of empty beaches and roads. In the few occupied houses with open shades, the technicolor lights from televisions reflect in the windows. I can count on one hand how many clear summer evenings I have spent inside. Instead of watching “Dancing With The Stars,” you will find me outside in the dark, mesmerized by the stars in the night sky. Now it is a time to put the memories of this summer where they belong: in my head and heart.

Even the shops and restaurants feel this seasonal shift. Driving down the main street, the sidewalks that were recently jammed with happy families now echo with the footsteps of only a few. The workers in the winter-proofed restaurants that remain open anxiously pace in the doorways, hoping just one family might indulge in a meal.

The buildings themselves look a bit sleepy. Blinds on windows are drawn half to three-quarters of the way down, reminding me of the eyelids of a sweet baby fighting off a midday slumber. The few people you come across talk about weather predictions, cleaning, and going home instead of the summer topics of tides, sunrise, and music. It is time for the beach bear to hibernate, knowing that the world will be filled with warmth and sunshine once again before long.

We have every reason to be sad, but I also see this time as the beginning of the season of gratitude. And you can probably guess that it is my favorite time of year.

In the summer, people are in constant motion — running between barbeques, games, and fun — trying to suck every last moment out of each day. Yes, we are spending time together, but the season’s excitement leaves little time for reflection and introspection. Time slows when we come inside, sit around the table to play board games, or in front of a popping wood fire; we become more contemplative.

For many, however, this contemplation in the fall and the ensuing holidays brings about feelings of sadness, loss, and loneliness. I used to feel that too. I dreaded the quiet of the fall and the cold winter that trapped me inside. While I love spending time with close-by family, I focused on missing the family members who could not be with us due to death or circumstances.

But this year, I vowed I would be different. I promised myself that I would l look at this fall season with a fresh perspective. I needed to find a way to relish the coming season as much as I did the last. Now that time is slowing, I have the room to think about how I can improve over the next few months. I can learn to be happier, more joyful. I grabbed my happiness journal and started small. I wrote things like, “I love the smell of apple pie cooking in the oven.” Suddenly instead of bemoaning the cold nights, I looked forward to a reason to snuggle earlier. If I string together these tiny moments of joy and gratitude, I can grow these moments into days and then days into weeks; you get the point.

For me, being in nature in the fall and winter is a good reminder of my place in the world. The world is so big, and I am merely a tiny part of it, but I still want my actions and reactions to have meaning.

So, I took a slow walk in the woods with the dogs. I took notice of the beautiful colored leaves hanging on to the branches waving in the wind. I listened as my dogs ran through the brown fallen leaves. There was a smell that was part earthy and part crisp. It is amazing how those simple sounds and smells carry many vivid memories of my parents, sisters, and youth. That crunch of the dried leaves underfoot took me back to my childhood when my family spent an afternoon under the rays of the fall sun wearing warm coats and mittens. We raked the leaves in a pile and ran through them, laughing and embracing pure joy. I need to spend more time with the leaves. I already feel better about the changing season.

Then I had another idea. I decided to keep my relatives close by, literally carrying their memories on my back, arms, neck, and ears! Since we can’t physically bring our lost loved ones back, I found a way to carry them with me all season long.

I figured out how to honor these important people by incorporating them into my every day.

A summer wardrobe does not desire accessories. We eliminate the extras because, with the warm weather, we strip down to wear only what is necessary. It is too hot to put on your favorite jewelry, scarf, etc. So with the cool mornings, I decided to grab a few pieces of jewelry passed down from generation to generation. I added a gold and black embossed broach from my grandmother onto my favorite jacket and highlighted a sweater with a beaded and turquoise necklace from a favorite aunt who is no longer with us. Instead of missing them, I make these people part of my every day by wearing things that were once important to them.

Clearly, I am not the first person to ever come up with this plan. A few days later, I complimented a friend on her beautiful embroidered cape. Her entire face lit up when she said, “It belonged to my Mother.” I imagine wrapping it around herself felt like a hug. Pure happiness.

This is something we can all do. Ask family members if they have any costume (or real) jewelry, scarves, jackets, etc., you could borrow. What once was old is new again. Start a new trend by wearing vintage. I did precisely that with a beaded necklace and a stone ring, and I felt the presence of my loved ones with me all day—what a wonderful feeling.

With a renewed sense of purpose and peace, I bid a sweet farewell to summer, the beach, the hubbub of a busy street, the crowds, bare shoulders, long hours of daylight, and a fast-paced life. I think I will bake some oatmeal raisin cookies. They were my grandma’s specialty, and their smell floods me with memories I want to spend some time with.

It looks like this season will be just as good as the last, and I can abbreviate the bitter part of a bittersweet goodbye to the beach and embrace the beauty of now.

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You may also enjoy reading 13 Holy Nights: Reclaiming the True Magic of the Solstice Season, by Lara J. Day.