As July draws to a close, I find myself feeling that quiet tension in the air again—that subtle reminder that another season is ending. It happens every year, but somehow it always catches me by surprise.
There’s a moment, usually in the late afternoon, when the sun hangs lower in the sky and the light starts to soften. The days are still warm, but the breeze carries something different. Not quite fall, but no longer the high heat of summer either. It’s in-between. And it makes me pause.
Transitions have a way of doing that—stopping us mid-step and asking us to take notice. Maybe that’s why this time of year always feels so reflective. There’s something about the rhythm of the seasons changing that reminds us we’re changing, too. Even if we haven’t meant to. Even if we’ve resisted it.
And let’s be honest: change is not always easy.
It can be uncomfortable, uncertain, even painful. Sometimes it comes in quiet, subtle shifts—a new school year, a new job, a child growing more independent, a routine starting to evolve. Other times it arrives like a wave, knocking us off balance, forcing us to adapt before we’re ready. Either way, it asks something of us. And often, it’s asking us to let go of what we’ve known.
That’s not small. That’s not easy. But it is human.
And while I’ve had my share of moments where I’ve wanted to hold on tightly to the way things were—to stay where it’s familiar and safe—I’ve also come to realize that change is often where the good stuff lives. The growth. The clarity. The connection. The opportunities we didn’t know we needed.
Not all change feels like an open door. Some of it feels like an ending. But what I’ve learned (and am still learning) is that endings make room. Room for something new. Room for a version of ourselves that’s wiser, more resilient, and more capable than we were before.
So if you find yourself in a season of change right now—whether big or small—I hope you’ll be gentle with yourself. I hope you’ll give yourself permission to feel whatever you’re feeling: the excitement, the sadness, the fear, the hope. All of it belongs.
But I also hope you’ll keep an open mind. Because sometimes what looks like loss or disruption is really a beginning in disguise. Sometimes the path you didn’t plan is the one that takes you exactly where you were meant to go.
As we leave summer behind and inch toward fall, I’m holding space for all of it: the gratitude for what’s been, the uncertainty of what’s coming, and the quiet trust that we’re strong enough to navigate the in-between.
Here’s to the changing seasons—and to the courage it takes to meet them with open hands.
