The Grief that Comes with Changing Seasons

Shaking off your old leaves to make room for the new

By Marie Ronnander

In my senior English class, I learned that our favorite books use the movement from one season to another as a backdrop for the protagonist's growth. In summer, there is peace and contentment. Fall brings about adjustment, while winter signals hardship, or even death. Spring is a chance to be resurrected. To me, this all makes poetic sense. Narnia only thaws when evil is destroyed.

Recently, I’ve begun to see myself as a mirror of the season that I’m in. I notice this reflection in the people I love, too: the change of hair color before entering a new school year, or a new tattoo to celebrate a birthday; our experiences are carved into our bodies. We’d like to think we’re separate from the earth around us, but in reality, we change just like the colors of leaves in autumn. And as our past falls away to the wind, it’s the looking back that causes us to catch our breath. After all, the colors were beautiful.

When we’re young, we see the future as a bright, shining sun. We stare into it without sunglasses and let the possibilities of life burn ambition into our retinas and our hearts. As time passes, each breath we exhale is not only energy churned towards these dreams, but also energy left to the past.

This idea falls under the law of conservation: energy is neither created nor destroyed, but rather passed on into different forms. We put our passions, creativity, and love into growing our own leaves, and those leaves are lovely. But when autumn comes, and winds of change sway our branches, some energy must be left behind in order to grow anew.

The idea of moving into a new season, letting all that we experienced fall behind us, is terrifying. Making room in our minds for all that is to come is terrifying. Each fall, I find myself fighting this great fear inside me that the new school year won’t be as sweet as the last. Photos from the previous years cause nostalgia to seep into my bones and settle into my heart. I ache for all that has passed me by. I miss the beautiful colors that are blowing in the wind.

Perhaps these feelings rise because each year, each new season, we are older (perhaps even wiser). There’s so much more life to look back on and cherish. Looking forward is so difficult, especially when what we already have is comfortable (perhaps even content). Our beautiful memories are carefully conserved in golden light, sometimes eclipsing the idea of the future. In these times, fight to remember that the future is what we’re on the earth to create. We are alive to keep living and to keep growing.

I’ll admit that, yes, saying my goodbyes to this summer came with nervous breakdowns and maybe, just maybe, a couple of tears. I fell in love with the rhythm of life I had been following, and to leave that behind clouded my optimism towards the future. However in these same weeks of change, I’ve been able to say some hellos. I moved into a new home with roommates that make my heart feel full. And while my classes are getting exponentially harder, I’m becoming the scientist that my sunblind younger-self always told herself she would be. I’m growing, and no matter how strangely uncomfortable it is, I am determined to keep doing so.

Every year, the earth goes through four seasons. Every year, the cycle starts over. While climate change makes the atmosphere a little hotter and our future a lot more uncertain, the cycle *still starts over*.

We, ourselves, are not impervious to these changes, and they will always make us feel unsure, and perhaps a little shaky. In these moments, don’t be afraid to cling to your roots; forgetting the past only leads to repetition. But in these moments, please, don’t lose sight of where you want to go. Let yourself feel all that you’re feeling, but don’t overlook that little light at the end of the tunnel. That’s your future, and you deserve to bask in it.

You’ll grow new leaves, and they have the potential to be even more vibrant than the last.