I’ve begun to let go of summer. Not all at once, but the way you release a hand that no longer grips: slowly, without drama, letting it cool little by little.
I gather the light clothes, put away the sandals, close the patio umbrella. They’re small gestures, but they give me back to myself. Everything I put away returns a piece of order to me.
Letting go doesn’t always come easily. Some summers stick to me, like a song you can’t get out of your head. But this year I realise there’s no need to tear them away. It’s enough to thank them and let them go.
I’ve noticed that summer taught me things without my asking. The most important: that one can be still without wasting time. That rest is also a way of moving forward.
Now I look toward September without fear. Whatever comes will find a tidier home, a more rested body, a cleaner attention.
Letting go isn’t emptying oneself. It’s making room. And I, little by little, am making room.