As August Begins, and Fall is Just Around the Corner

As August begins, I feel the shift—not just in the air, but in my spirit. The sun still shines warm, the days still stretch long, but something whispers of change. A softness creeps into the mornings. The light tilts golden. The wind carries the first hints of goodbye. And somewhere deep inside, I feel it too.

Fall is just around the corner.

There’s always been something sacred about this time of year for me. A quiet in-between space. A breath between the blazing heat of summer and the hush of winter. It feels like nature’s own version of holding on and letting go all at once—and maybe that’s why it speaks so deeply to me right now.

Because that’s exactly where I live these days: between holding on and letting go.

Living beside my husband and his PNES, I’ve come to understand seasons in a whole new way. Our life doesn’t follow a predictable rhythm. Some days come like a summer storm—sudden, wild, and overwhelming. Others pass like autumn leaves drifting softly to the ground, tinged with sorrow, yet still somehow beautiful. I’ve learned to take each one as it comes, to find meaning in the mess, and to keep moving forward even when the path is buried in fallen leaves.

I carry grief like a shadow, but I also carry hope. And as August begins, I let myself believe that change can be kind. That maybe, just maybe, the coming season holds something gentler.

I look out the window and imagine the leaves turning. I imagine lighting candles again in the early dark, wrapping myself in soft sweaters, letting the world slow down. I long for that rhythm. I long for peace—for my husband, for me. We’ve fought so hard. We’ve lost more than words can say. And yet, somehow, we’re still here. Still breathing. Still loving. Still trying.

Maybe that’s the lesson of fall. Things change. Things fall away. But there’s beauty in that too. In the letting go. In the quiet resilience of starting again. In knowing that even as things die, new life always waits beneath the surface. Always.

So as August begins, I don’t run from the ache. I sit with it. I honor all that we’ve survived. I feel the sun on my face and the ache in my heart and I let them both be true. I water the hope inside me, however small it may seem. I whisper to the sky, “Let this next season be kinder.”

And then I do the bravest thing of all: I keep going.

Because fall is coming. And with it, perhaps, the chance to begin again.