then we fall.

This Fall. This year.

It does feel like falling. Or jumping. Or closing. Or opening.

This weekend, I went with Evan to our plot in the community garden—a last-ditch effort for half-assed farmers. We harvested. It was a mess. A muddy, sad, overgrown, viney mess… with much to harvest, but another much to grieve.


As I plucked off tomatillo after tomatillo, I asked Evan…

– Oh, man… is this garden a metaphor for our life?

– You mean, a lot of work in at the beginning and then we let it all go to shit?

We chuckled, but winced at the fear of the truth.

He was the first sunflower. I was the second.


– Wait. Is that what’s happening?

– Probably not.

No. It’s not. Right?

Fall is just the time of finding things falling down. There’s this garden that you’ve made and it has incredible yields, but you’ve neglected and forgotten and avoided some the gems for so long.

But we won’t let that sadness take away from the juiciness of the newness, the fruits ripe for the picking. Vegetation—life—falling away from us, to reveal the brightness. The change. The breath of cool air that wakes us up. The beauty in finishing. The completeness of picking. It’s beautiful.


I—after months and months—finally finished this book this weekend. I wept. I curled up on the couch and ugly cried—unabashedly wiping my nose on my sweatshirt. Completing. Done. This story—start to finish—a life—start to finish—cover to cover—done. Beautiful.

It was more than an article. More than an Instagram post. More than a film. More than a short story. A behemoth of a book—perfect to completion.

Things are finishing. Falling. Perfectly and imperfectly.

To toast to this, a playlist. Not a song. Not one video. [though, if it were one, it would be this one over and over.]


From beginning to end. Then fall to begin.

[fall to begin.]

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