When the sun slips away and summer draws to a close, I get nostalgic, don’t you?

It happens quietly at first.

The light changes — not dramatically, but in a way your skin and heart notice before your mind does. Mornings take on a softer chill. The evening sun doesn’t linger quite as long. Somewhere deep inside, you feel the shift: summer is slipping away.

Every year, I tell myself I’m ready for it. That I welcome the crispness of autumn, the cozy sweaters, the pumpkin-spice-everything. But there’s always a part of me that clings to the lazy hum of August afternoons, the taste of tomatoes still warm from the vine, the laughter of long days that had no real schedule.

Summer carries a kind of permission — to be unhurried, to wander, to stay out a little too late because the air feels like a warm blanket and the moon looks particularly kind that night. There’s a childlike joy to it, even if you haven’t been a child in decades.

And so, as the cicadas grow quieter and the back-to-school ads become impossible to ignore, I find myself lingering in small rituals. One more evening walk while the sky still glows peach. One last swim, even if the water has cooled. One more bowl of berries for breakfast. It’s a way of holding on while letting go.

Because the truth is, summer always ends — and maybe that’s why it feels so precious. It reminds us to savor, to take the long way home, to stop and notice the way sunlight freckles the grass.

And even as the seasons turn, I carry those golden moments with me, a little warmth stored away for colder days.

How about you? How does your life change after summer ends? What comes to mind as summer draws to a close?