Here in Michigan, Labor Day has always felt less like a holiday and more like a threshold. The last cookouts, bare feet in the grass, a final dip in the water before the air changes. Summer isn’t ending on the calendar, but we are all having the quiet realization that the next thing is already arriving; beginning a new school grade, a new schedule, a new rhythm of life.
Watching my child on the shoreline this week made me see it more clearly. She barely hesitates when walking into the water, she’s been coming here all summer and knows exactly what to expect. Similar to where we were at the end of last school year, a confidence that grew with experience. I know she’s nervous about heading back to school, a new grade with new teachers and different friends. She’s expressed some hesitation, which is normal, but still breaks my heart to know she has to experience any anxiety at all.
We love the certainty of summer- the freedom and familiar comfort, a break from the demands of a full schedule. September demands a shift. New routines. New expectations. Even as adults, our “next big thing” comes disguised as deadlines, projects, decisions waiting to be made. The truth is that every season requires us to edge into water that feels too cold at first.
Isn’t that exactly how September feels?
What kids do instinctively is what adults often resist: they push through the shock, and within minutes they’re swimming. They don’t overthink it. They don’t try to negotiate with the waves. They allow their bodies to adjust, and they are rewarded with the fun and excitement of play. Somehow, they know that it will be worth it to move forward.
As adults, we sometimes lose that push. We don’t always see the value in the effort; but everything in life requires work, thought, problem-solving and possibly tough decisions to be made. We are so quick to ignore quiet thought, pushing it away with speedy reels and tickity tocks to distract us from the real-life problems that beg to be solved.
Sidenote, I enjoy calling them tickity tocks- it’s a very Betsy thing to do and she is being honed as my alter ego for Oheavenstabetsy. Betsy is old enough to remember, honest enough to admit, and humble enough to laugh at herself along the way. Keep an eye out for more from her, but for now just know- she’ll be working her way back to you, babe. (her favorite song from The Spinners)
I am subscribed to the notion of social media, as a mom using it to decompress and relate to other parenting humor; as a small business owner I use it to advertise my work- a free platform to display my portfolio in an artistic and creative way. But we are all aware of the downside, so knowing our limits and when to take a break is essential to our mental health.
Summer break is the perfect opportunity to participate in traditions of outdoor adventures that anchor us. Simple on the surface- packing a cooler, driving to the lake, sitting barefoot in a lawn chair- but the value runs so much deeper. I’ve always loved an impromptu trip to the beach, which I can blame on my mom- I’ve taken after her that when things seem overwhelming and its hot enough, packing up for the lake is the best option.
When I was little, she would walk the shoreline with her cigarette in one hand, travel coffee mug in the other. It was a reboot for her psyche- the sun, the sand, the water – ignoring the chores at home for a few hours and just letting the mind process the tons of thoughts she had racing through her mind. There’s even a ‘Bluey’ episode where Chili walks down the beach alone and Bluey asks her why she likes it? She says, “I just do.”
The older I get, the more I realize why these rituals steady us. They remind us of who we are regardless of the noise of obligations, deadlines and endless notifications. A trip to the beach or a backyard barbecue isn’t just leisure, it’s a mirror reflecting back the way life once felt- simple, shared, and present.
When we return to the water, or the porch swing, or a picnic table- we’re also returning to the memories stitched into those places. We remember our parents taking the time to plan and pack for these outings, the laughter of siblings and cousins, the long games of cards or catch that took up an entire day. These memories are proof that connection was always the point.
Quality time has a way of creating quality reflection. As we slow down, we allow space for conversations that would otherwise go unsaid, for processing the hard choices ahead, for gaining clarity that productivity alone cannot provide. The stillness that sharpens our perspective is invaluable.
Maybe that’s the true gift of summer traditions: they don’t just entertain us, they equip us. Pausing to play, to reflect, to simply be, we prepare ourselves to step back into the current of life with better judgement, lighter hearts and stronger bonds.
The reflection we get from the water is not just on the surface.
