You know that feeling, where a cool breeze will roll in, the sun at 11am seems like it’s really 9am, and everything’s just quiet for a minute? It’s the feeling I understand as fall, even though outside it’s really closer to 90 degrees and I’ll start sweating the second this fan isn’t directed at my body and cars, bells, and birds are as noisy as ever. But for some reason it just feels like fall to me. Or maybe spring.
I have this innate sense of what the transition of seasons feels like and it’s always been very comforting. Maybe it was when I was little certain days spent outside became the norm for me. There are days in the dead of summer or winter that will remind me of an afternoon spent playing in my tree house or jumping on the trampoline in the middle of spring. Smells will trigger this, but I have no way of knowing what they are until I’m completely overwhelmed with a sense of nostalgia.
But it’s more than just the weather. This sense of calm is what gets to me. It makes me want to curl up on a rocking chair on a porch with a good book and a cup of lemonade or sweet tea and enjoy the day instead of having to be cooped up inside listening to rambling professors or inside stuffy laundromats washing clothes while watching poorly dubbed X-Men on old TVs.
I’ve hit that point in my life where I don’t want to sit still. I want to go out and view the world in all its splendor. I want to see the markets of Marakesh and watch history unfold in the temples of Athens, listen to old women remenisce on their porches in Thailand and get utterly lost in the streets of Barcelona. Maybe it’s because I can feel that I’ve finally gotten to that point where my life itself is transitioning. I’ve found what I want to do and how to do it, now all I need to do is go out and grab life by the hand and run down cobbled streets in the center of Italy and enjoy life and all it brings.
I don’t want to sit still. I want to go on an adventure.