Winter came early for me this year. And so did spring.

It’s only mid August, a time when I usually start to look forward to the first days of fall. But it’s different here, in the southern hemisphere. It’s the other way around.

It seems like Buenos Aires is just waking up from the colder months. Some people are still wearing long coats and stroll around the streets wrapped up in knitted scarves. Others hang out in their long sleeved shirts and loose light jackets, like they cannot wait another minute for warmer days to finally kick in.

The sunlight is dim and low, and while it gets warm in the afternoons, mornings and evenings are still crisp. You know, the kind of crisp where you have to put your hands in your pockets and lift your shoulders closer to your ears, like a turtle, if only to trick your body to feel a bit warmer.

I love these kinds of transitions, when one season turns into another. For it’s not just about the weather, really. Transitions signal that something is going to change, that something new is about to begin. Oftentimes, with little indication of what and how and when.

Transitions cause this strange feeling in your stomach that is so hard to describe certain nervousness, combined with a sense of cosiness and calm and excitement at the same time. Just like the first day of school.

Transitions can feel turbulent and confusing and unsettling, too. But there is nothing scary about them, nothing much really, once you learn to let go and welcome the unknown.

In fact, that's the whole beauty of transitions, no matter where (in life) you are. The abundance of all these mixed feelings and sensations about what is yet to come.

Kindly,

Neva.