As I write I gaze beyond the window pane and realize, with a jolt of grief and longing, that I’m staring into the twilight of summer. The leaves grow weary, further aware with each and every whisper of breeze, that they are slowly dying. I will mourn them when they’re gone. I am a summer soul and relate perfectly with the withering, dry husks that are left behind, sorry remains of their glorious former selves and stark reminders of me, in all my summer glory. It’s a cycle we know together, the leaves and I, and we’ll return together too, if only eventually and briefly.
I know how fortunate I am to find the leaves so familiar. It makes my life feel cyclic and tragically poetic somehow. Not quite the tree, rather it’s sustenance.
Like my verdant summer sisters, I often view my saplings from a distance. Their joy is my shimmer, and I dance in their echoes of laughter and mischief, adventures and youth, sustaining me in turn. Their light is what gives me life and I unfurl, languid with love. How beautiful they are to watch! And I see that they too are like me, like the leaves. Each year they grow, so brilliant and dazzling it’s easy to see past what was lost in the Fall, what will never come back again, not even with Spring…instead new versions will come, season after season, and I will be there, blessed to watch.
But trees nor their leaves can live forever. Their existence is taxing out there with all the elements.
I can only hope to dance to my death as the leaves do, still twirling even in the final Fall. They whisper as they fade, acknowledging me, and I finally understand the meaning of their farewell; they are The Last Summer and their title is royal and ancient. They do not live only to see a single season, a blink in time as we have believed. Their energetic cells are every summer that ever was and ever will be, a perfect circle until the end of time and even then. They never leave me.
Something inside me rustles with the knowledge and stirs a long buried memory within.
The Last Summer.
And so am I. And so are we…