Labor Day's Beginning and Ending
1980 something
Today, the day after Labor Day, I felt compelled to unfold and slip into that pair of soft and thread bare, faded jeans, the same jeans that have become my best friend through the years, the same jeans that have faithfully been with me through those college autumn afternoons, and the wintry fireside chats, thru sunset walks during cool evening on the Gulf's shoreline, or during inland strolls through the farm's pasture's pensive mood; the same pair that has seen me thru the phases of childbearing, patiently awaiting my return, never forsaking the friendship. And, now, their comfortable presence symbolize the season's change, and melancholy adhere to the summer's passage. They seem appropriate choice in clothing as Fall's hinting breeze begins the day.
I suppose with Labor Day's sunset, we move ourselves routinely into Autumn, and our focus shifts into tasks of routine and of responsibilities that often times, only briefly flirted with us in a summer's mindset. Yet, in this Labor Day weekend and in this time of seasonal transitions, the transitional mood can feel like a sheer cloak of familarness, lingering, surrounding you and caressing your heart and soul, providing a surge towards life's intangible brushes with past and present. And, all that was worthy and good in summer's gone by flows thru the mind as no longer just a memory, but as if today. Age means nothing and time is a gift.
Summer's end can offer an awakening of the senses as thoughts of days gone by meet and assist the opening and closing of the season, as if similarity closing the River Cabin for the season and preparing for the journey into Fall.
As each piece of furniture is dusted and as each woven basket of bleached shells is emptied, one can pause and realize and understand that the magical days of youth in summer helped make one what they are today; that the experiences of summer collectively shaped one' opinions and perspectives; it's the accumulation of people, place, adventures, heartbeats and the naivety that brought youthful splendid anticipations and the immorality then of body and spirit that granted you a small flickering flame of eternal youth, now called upon as it brings a smile to one's face and heart in an adult world of today.
So I greet this day in early September, and before I slowly and reluctantly lock the doors of Summer, I shall once again pause and visit the cottage of Summer memory.