just as it has arrived, summer is ending abruptly here in toronto.

the days are warm and the nights are cold and it's anything but wonderful. yes, the weather is nice. yes, one could swim during the day and wear a fleece around a campfire at night. it is the best of the temperate climate, and there is no rain, in a good way.

the only problem is the date.

today is the last day of august. august is the last day of summer, and tomorrow marks the beginning, or the return, to an existence i had left so far behind as to not recognize myself in 'work clothes' anymore. i even subjected myself and my family to the abhorrent experience of Back to School Shopping at a mall of all things. terrible things.

back to school, the end of summer, and the return of a paycheck are all very mixed in their effects upon my mood. much of the time i find myself just signing out of consciously considering any of them, and opting for more immediate sensations such as sleep, or depression, or the smell of those fruit-fly-infested-dirty-dishes-that-i-should-have-washed-three-days-ago. i found, it turns out, the perfect remedy.

one of my favorite topics is context. so much can be understood and misunderstood based on simple contextualization exercises, that it leads me to spiraling existentialism and i have to stop, but not before rationalizing something along the way. insulation is another of my favorite topics, because it works in direct contrast to contextualization, and i've been quite a subject to insulation these days. it's wonderful being detached from the 'working world', the 'consumer culture', the 'workplace', etc. i haven't bought things i don't need for some time. most, if not all of my allowance goes toward groceries and household expenses (these are generally not made out of carbon fiber, either). one problem, though, of being so insulated from 'the rest of the world', is that i often lack context. this comes out in my overexuberance regarding responses to questions like, 'what's your bike made out of?', or 'how do you like your bar tape?'. this is also expressed in my disatisfaction with 'the day'. i have no money, nothing good came in the mail, the weather's too hot, the rain is too much, the house is a mess, etc., etc., all means that the day is bad. HOWEVER: riding a bike lends perspective which, through sweat and physical exertion/pain, pushes through mental fuzziness (insulation by isolation), to ultimately achieve a frame of mind that will allow for contextualization. brilliant. go hurt yourself so that you can think clearly and realize that the day is a great day. truly, bikes are amazing machines.

and just like that, the day faded and melancholy swept over my lightheartedness with a nostalgic familiarity, like an aftertaste of something much better than inevitable.

these days have a way of ending more quickly than i can stand. it's not enough to photograph them, ride a bike through their hours and sun-dapplings, or bumble around wondering what to do while a child naps. it's not enough to make grandiose plans of the highest productivity, enjoyment, or personal improvement. it's not enough to wish that they would stay.

september seeps back into consciousness with the sure-footed cadence of an atomic clock, bringing closer, one catastrophic second at a time, the end of a summer that will always be golden, regardless of how many days it rained or how many rides i couldn't make. this kind of sadness is routine. it lacks the panache of unrequited love, or the all-encompassing and clinically recognized depression. it is subtle, unavoidable, and absolute.

i wish i was riding right now, but it's eleven thirty-seven on a saturday night, and the kids will be up in a few hours, and there's breakfast to be made, hands to wipe, floors to sweep, meals to prepare, a season to end, a sadness to set in. 

thank goodness no one will ever know.