I knew the day would come. The dawnings were later and shifting south, the sunsets altogether too early. Needing to leave the boat on Saturday evenings because of choir and church the next day. The sailing season was drawing to a close. It’s happened for the past twenty seasons in this same fashion. October comes, and the weather turns to too windy or too wet or too cold. Sometimes, all three. I feel sadness in October. The summers are so good. Especially this past summer where I’m sure we sailed more and farther than ever before. It’s hard to face that reality that it’s over.

The past three seasons have hit me harder than most other years. I was on my bicycle last week, making a biweekly trek to East Lansing for therapy, thinking about the upcoming session when I had an epiphany. It’s not just that the short pants and short sleeve shirts are being put away. It’s not just that the amount of sunlight is waning and need to pull out the bright light to get through winter. Not all of the reasons that I have thought of over the years to explain the autumn melancholy. Sailing is my summertime self-care. A time away from home. No house chores, no car chores. Only the boat chores that seem easier, or sometimes just postponed because it’s too nice a day.

Sailing is my summertime self-care, and it’s put away for the winter. Covered in canvas tarps, soaked by the falling rain at the very end of the day.

Realizing that self care is vital for me, and that I was losing a major part of my self care was a helpful insight. Time to replace that with the other things – community theatre, live music, and perhaps this really is the year to stay in sailing shape by getting some gym time.

Oh, it’s still hard to strip the boat of bedding, things that would be damaged by freezing, and the like. But at least I’ve identified something that I am mourning, and can do something about it.