My Daughter is Summer
My daughter is Summer. That’s not her name, but it’s the season in which she was born and, as we approach her second birthday, I witness more and more each day how her season of birth aligns with her spirit. I see how her placement on this earth is influenced by so much luck, timing, and coincidence. And I have come to appreciate that I am decidedly NOT Summer. I am Autumn, as foretold by my early-December birthdate.
Where my daughter is bathing suits and skinned knees and shins covered in grime from climbing anything that presents a challenge, I am cable knit sweaters and hands warmed by mugs and shins wrapped in high boots. My daughter engages with others and with life in the same fashion that she greets the sun on our daily walks - arms outstretched, inviting warmth so that she may radiate it, intense and bright as high noon. Not me, who will approach a room and an opportunity from the outskirts, learning as much as I can through observation before ingratiating myself amongst the masses. Her warmth is immediate. Mine is earned.
She is loud and strong-willed, adorned with bug bites, a patchwork of grass stains, arms dirt-covered to the elbow as she explores the earth by getting on its level. She is above nothing, and thus nothing is above her. She found her voice early and uses it often, she is undaunted by challenge and change because the world is lit up in a fever of abundance for her. So green and hot and pulsing with life is her reality that it threatens to combust if left unacknowledged and adored. She wastes no time in lavishing her adoration. I await change, warm mug in hand, with expectation and drive. She drinks from the garden hose because, damn it, the moment is now and she’s every element all at once - earth, fire, water, then air as she alights to the next wonderful distraction. As I gaze upon horizons to glean what is beyond them, she is engrossed in the blades of grass just under her feet. “Right now,” she seems to say with her every movement. Right now we are free. Right now we are young. Right now we are strong enough to burn brightly. Why are you looking ahead to anything but right now, when this is all that’s promised you?
I catch the faintest scent of Autumn on the evening breeze and the leaves of delight rustle in my heart. My eye is pointed to the future upon the horizon, as it always has been. Just then I am called to attention and find myself looking into the eyes of Áine and Theros and Aestas and Damia and Freyr and those of my two-year-old. They are accusing and demand to be honored for the gifts they bring and, looking at the sunny blonde bounce of her hair and the fertile soil of her soul, I can’t help but feel I’m experiencing Summer for the first time and might just look forward to it every year to come.