Summer Solstice Again

This morning’s sunrise as I made my way by bike to Pilates class…an hour and a half early! That’s 9am, Lisa, not 7:30am! Making the longest day of the year even longer…

Every year around this time, as if it were my first time around the sun, I am amazed that the days get longer, the mornings earlier and the nights later. Same for the reverse every December as we approach the shortest days. At least in this part of the world. The truth is, I get very focused on transitions, and summer solstice is a big one. We’ve been working our way up to this, and today the lens of the day is open as wide as it will get for another year, like a camera lens. Or for the ultimate in transitions, like a cervix at 10 centimeters, ready to birth a baby.

Transitions are about endings and beginnings. And the truth is, the part of transitions I get very focused on is the endings. What am I letting go of, what goodbyes need to be said? So it’s no surprise I’ve been feeling a vague sense of sadness hovering in the background for the last couple of weeks as we’ve built up to this day. And this morning I just felt an all-over sad feeling without quite understanding why. Everything is fine, there are no major crises, the kids are thriving. But again, that’s part of it.

Transitions. It’s sunk in that our kids will probably never live at home with us again. My daughter graduated college and is starting up her creative film making career—as of yesterday in New York City. My son is doing his first summer business internship in Los Angeles, learning a lot, putting his all into it, and doing great. They’ve both been birthed into the wider world. And Jon and I are left at home with the dog. Our kids don’t need us the way they once did. And I’m so happy for them. But also I’m realizing as they start their independent lives that I’m moving into another stage as well. A reset and new routines. More independence of my own. And for now, plenty of daylight.

Tomorrow will appear the same as today, only two seconds less sunlight crammed in. I won’t notice the difference. But I’ll know inside we’ve turned around and started back the other way. And I’ll let go a little bit and let out my breath and feel happier again, knowing that I’ve crossed the border of another transition and it’s time once again to look forward to new beginnings.

But perhaps you prefer your seasonal transitions through a wilder lens. If so, check out these colorful pictures from the 41st Annual Coney Island Mermaid Parade. A parade “to celebrate creativity, nautical mythology, fertility, the start of summer, and letting one’s freak flag fly.”

With all the work I’ve done with my novel The Siren Dialogues featuring a mysterious woman who washes ashore and may or may not have a tail. . . I really have to make it to this celebration sometime soon! Next year in Brooklyn?

Happy summer! May all your transitions be good ones.