“Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.” — F. Scott Fitzgerald
It’s been more than a decade since I last set foot in a classroom. One would assume that I, a childless 32 year old woman, would have outgrown the idea that September is the start of a new year, but, alas, I have not. Like clockwork, as soon as Labor Day weekend is upon us, I get that back-to-school feeling — that new year, new me energy — once again.
Growing up, I was not popular. But I was also not unpopular. I sort of just… existed, I suppose. Was there. In retrospect, I think I often felt as though I was a supporting character in the play of my own life. Someone else’s story was always more important — more exciting — than mine.
But each year, come September, I wondered if this year would be different. If this year would be the year that changed everything.
I would fantasize about having my very own Disney Channel Original Movie moment. Show up on the first day of school like a caterpillar who had spent summer in a cocoon and finally emerged a beautiful butterfly. People who had known me since kindergarten would see me in the halls and do a double take, wondering, ‘Who’s the new girl?’, only to be shocked to realize the new girl was me.
My imagination ran wild. I envisioned the boy I had a years long crush on finally falling in love with me — and he would declare his love very publicly, à la Seth Cohen and the coffee cart. The girls who were mean to me would want me to be their best friend. I would be the new Queen Bee, and of course, I would rule the school with kindness because I knew what it was like to be on the other side.
Of course, none of this ever came to fruition, and deep down, I knew it never would. But that didn’t matter. I still held onto that fragment of hope, that this September would be the one I had been waiting for.
Now that I am an adult, working a corporate job, September is the same as August, which was the same as July, which was the same as June, etc. etc. There is nothing special about September… and yet.
Maybe there is?
Maybe it’s all in my head, years of societal conditioning at work, but I really do believe there is something special about September. About all of autumn.
It’s a time for transformation, if you want it to be. A time to hunker down and reflect on your year thus far.
To think about the person you’ve been and the person you want to be. To observe where those two people are aligned and take note of where they are not. To decide what needs to happen to bridge the gap between where you’ve been and where you are going.
Autumn is full of possibility.
And change and magic and power and beauty.
And just as the trees lose their leaves, we too, can shed the parts of ourselves that no longer serve us and emerge anew.
XOXO,
Maddie
Seth Cohen and the coffee cart!! That absolutely brought me back. As someone who dreads the end of summer this was a good perspective on September and the opportunity to "start fresh." Going to try to start thinking of it that way!
Oh Maddie how beautiful! I completely resonate with how you felt in high school.