$pent Millennial

Dear Reader,

I don’t want to miss this.

Fall is here. Well, almost. It won’t be official until tomorrow, September 22nd, but even “unofficial fall” has been showing off lately—the leaves are already starting to change, a few have drifted down, and we’ve had our share of crisp mornings and autumn-like storms. Perfect weather for cozying up with a blanket, a creepy movie, or a good murder mystery.

September has always carried a kind of magic for me. Growing up, I loved the energy of back-to-school season—fresh pencils, new notebooks, the nervous excitement of the first day. Later, as an educator, I felt that same buzz on the first day with students, setting up a classroom full of possibility.

Now that I’m no longer in classrooms, I find myself missing pieces of that season—new crayons, the smell of fresh books, the hum of a new start. But fall still pulls me in with its rituals like fall coffee flavors. I’m a pecan girly (not pumpkin). I even like that the evenings get dark earlier—it gives me permission to shut down sooner, cook a cozy casserole, and curl up with a blanket and a show.

This year, though, as August slipped into September, my usual anticipation was replaced with something heavier. Anxiety crept in. A calendar packed with work events and weekend obligations I’d rather skip left me dreading what I normally savor.

Still, every now and then, my head pokes above water, and I catch myself pausing. Stepping outside into the crunch of leaves, noticing Halloween displays and candy aisles, I think to myself: I don’t want to miss this.

Lately, though, more and more of life feels like that. Excitement dulled by never-ending to-dos. The campaigns and projects I pour myself into eat up so much time and headspace that the real life—the celebrations, the family moments, the small joys—risk slipping into the background instead of being the focus.

I blame the “high-achiever” in me. I’ve always been the straight-A, gold-star type with intrinsic motivation to power a steamboat. That drive has served me well—it got me through college, opened doors I never expected, and helped me pay off the debt from that degree. It’s built and sustained the life I have today.

But I’ve been asking myself lately: What’s the point? What am I even striving for? When am I achieving just to achieve? 

And… At what point does chasing the next goal cost me the very life I’m trying to build?

There are no gold stars for being present. But, then there really aren’t any gold stars for any of it.  Maybe that’s the point. Maybe the real reward is not missing the moments that matter—like a pecan coffee on an (almost) fall Sunday morning. 

After all, the way we spend our moments becomes the way we spend our life– or whatever the quote is. 

Here’s to slowing down enough to notice.

Until next week- take care,

Everett