Field Note Friday, Edition 008: The Sounds of Late August

I was standing in my bathroom, windows open, brushing my teeth and ready for bed, when I noticed it.

The sound outside was so loud, like I was suddenly at one of the concerts I had attended in sold-out stadiums earlier this summer. It was so loud, I couldn't believe I was only just noticing it.

It was the sound of the end of August. Katydids, grasshoppers, and even some tree frogs singing late into the night.

It might be unpleasant if you don't know what it is.

For me, this performance of nature reminds me of my family. It reminds me of the time I camped out in an RV with my grandmother in my Uncle David's driveway, his wife about to give birth but "probably not tonight." My sister and I were happy to hang out. As fate would have it, DJ came into the world fast and furious that very night, so quickly his mom barely had time to get to the hospital and definitely no time for pain medicine. While our family changed forever, my sister and I lay there, listening to the orchestra outside the camper. A year later, in the exact same spot, we would be sitting there after my Uncle David's funeral. Same noises, same place, same time of year - entirely different emotional weight.

DJ was born in 2003, and Uncle David passed less than a year later, in 2004. Now it is 2026, and everything has changed. But the sounds remain the same.

The end of August is synonymous with change, and the music made by the bugs and creatures outside is the soundtrack.

Soon, we'll be setting our alarms for buses, checking folders for homework, and rushing to activities. The chorus will settle, and the nights will be quiet sooner than we think. Babies will be born, family members will die, the trees will lose their leaves, and we will begin and end projects with both success and failure. We'll fret over our aging parents while trying not to let it show. We'll argue with people we love, and hopefully we'll make up with them, too. We'll nurture old friendships and make new ones. We will grow, we will change, and we will become nostalgic over all of it.

But the sounds of the end of August will always remain the same. And I think that alone is worth celebrating.