There is a particular quiet that shows up in late August. The kind that means summer is closing out whether you’re ready or not. The kids are back in uniforms and early alarms, the group chats slow down, and everyone starts talking about routines again like routines are the whole point. I felt that quiet settle in this week — and instead of rushing past it, I sat with it long enough to actually look back at the season I just had.
It was a full one. Not full in the frantic, over-scheduled way — full in the way that leaves you fuller than it found you. A birthday. A trip. A sound bowl. A friend I’ve known since I was a kid. My son in a uniform. My best friend and our kids soaked head to toe at a water park. All of it belongs in the same story, so here it is.
A Birthday in Jamaica
I brought in another birthday this year the way I want to bring in every one from now on — surrounded by the people who knew me before any of this was built. My parents. My best friend. Sun, salt air, and absolutely nowhere to be. We stayed at a resort that felt like its own quiet world, all marble staircases and ocean breeze, and I spent most of the trip doing the two things I never give myself enough of: resting, and being fully present with the people who raised me.
“I brought in this birthday surrounded by the people who knew me before any of this was built.”
There’s a version of me that would have spent the whole trip checking email between excursions. I’m proud of the version who didn’t. Every year I get a little better at understanding that rest isn’t something I earn after the work is done — it’s part of how the work stays sustainable at all.
A Sound Bath, and Something Shifting
Back home, I made space for a sound healing session — singing bowls, a handpan, and about an hour of letting my nervous system finally exhale. I’ve done enough of these now to know what it feels like when one actually lands, and this one landed. I left lighter than I walked in, which is really all I ever ask of a practice like this.
Old Friends Keep You Honest
I had dinner with a friend I’ve known since childhood — she grew up in Cuba, I grew up here, and somehow our friendship has outlasted every city, every job, and every version of ourselves we’ve been since. There is a specific kind of honesty you can only get from someone who remembers you before you had a brand, a title, or a business plan. I left that dinner reminded of exactly who I am underneath all of it.
Watching My Son Become an Airman
Of everything this summer held, this is the one that will stay with me the longest. I traveled to watch my oldest graduate from Air Force Basic Military Training — and I don’t know that I have the right words for what it feels like to watch your child stand in formation as someone who now serves. I remember every version of him that led to this one. Standing under that archway with him, in uniform, was one of the proudest moments of my life.
Motherhood doesn’t really have a finish line, but it does have moments that feel like a chapter closing and a new one opening at the same time. This was one of those.
Six Flags, White Water, and Zero Adult Responsibilities
And then, because life is supposed to hold joy and gravity in the same season, I closed the summer out at Six Flags White Water with my best friend and our kids. We got soaked, we laughed more than we planned to, and for one full day the only job either of us had was keeping track of towels and reapplying sunscreen. It was exactly the kind of ordinary, silly, sunburned day that makes the rest of it worth it.
Onward to Fall
So that’s the season: a birthday, a milestone, an old friendship, a new one being restored, a son becoming a man in front of me, and a water park day that reminded me how to be silly. I don’t think I could have built anything this fall without all of it filling me back up first. Here’s to whatever this next season holds — I’ll be back here every Friday to tell you about it.