October

Welcome to October! Hopefully you are settling into your autumn season: reaching for warmer clothes again, noticing the crispness in the air, and feeling the year beginning to turn inward.

October has always felt like an inward month to me, too. It is a time when I find myself thinking about where I have been, what has carried me this far, and what I want to carry forward. I think about the people who came before me, the things they passed down intentionally and unintentionally, and the ways they continue to be present in my life.

This summer, I was speaking to a group of people about my Oma, my German grandmother, and mentioned that gladiolus are my favorite flowers because they were hers. Not a week later, several gladiolus began growing in my yard. I have lived here for more than two years. I didn't plant them, and I had never seen them grow here before. Maybe it was a wonderful coincidence. I happen to believe it was my Oma saying hello.

That is part of what I want to make room for this October: remembrance. The recipes we still make. The plants someone taught us to recognize. The objects we keep. The stories we tell. The habits we don't even realize we inherited. And sometimes, perhaps, a flower appearing unexpectedly in the yard.

But remembering where we came from doesn't mean we are obligated to carry all of it forward. We aren't bound to traditions simply because they are old or because our families practiced them before us. We don't have to admire everything our ancestors believed, support the choices they made, or preserve customs that no longer reflect who we are.

As we move toward the holiday season, October feels like a particularly good time to look at our traditions a little more closely. Why do we do the things we do every year? Which traditions still bring meaning, connection, or joy? Which ones are performed mostly out of obligation? What have we inherited that deserves to be tended, and what are we ready to leave behind?

We are not only the descendants of the people who came before us. We are also the ancestors of those who may come after us. We get to decide what we add to the story. We can keep what is meaningful, change what no longer fits, and begin traditions entirely our own. I like the idea of living in such a way that someday, generations from now, someone might remember us with the same warmth with which we remember the people who mattered to us—and perhaps feel honored to carry a little piece of us forward.

XOXO,
Angie