The end of summer is a small death. As it draws near, inevitable regrets hover about me. Did I waste my time? Why didn't I do more, travel more? I should have finished that project. I should have gone to the beach again. I thought I had more time. I can still fit in one more fling. I want to be prepared for the end. I want to say my goodbyes.As these thoughts gathered in my brain this morning, I wondered. If I feel this way at the end of summer, is it a taste of how I will feel at the end of life? I reminded myself that my life isn't over. It's just going to change. The end of summer brings new things to anticipate, new adventures. Perhaps that, too, is true for death.
