On the change of seasons (or Course Seven: a post-mortem)

Tomorrow is the Vernal Equinox, the moment when day and night balance each other out, the mark of winter’s end and the start of spring. Florida has been expressing spring rebirth for some time with almost every tree pushing out new growth. Up north, in my childhood home of NH or the future home of PA, I know that snows have been freshly laid and the spring renewal is weeks, if not months, away.

This feels right. Course Seven, the final course of second year and the ostensible halfway mark to doctor-hood, finished this past week with two exams. The past few days have been long nights with friends and big meals with family. In six weeks, I will sit for Step One, the cumulative board exam for the first half of medical school.

Tomorrow, on the first day of solar spring, dedicated Step Prep begins. On the other side of this study tunnel, I will emerge to the start of Florida summer and move to Pennsylvania’s burgeoning spring. Change is in the air and I’m enjoying the transition.

Looking forward, I wonder what life will feel like when the longest day rises on June 20th for the Summer Solstice. I’ll be deep in my Internal Medicine rotation. My partner and I thought about wedding together on that day, but decided against a rushed weekend of celebration. I know the Autumnal Equinox will have a foreboding aura, as I’ll prepare for my first true winter in two sunny Florida years while living with two native Californians.

It’s more difficult to look back and appreciate the growth. I turned the boat around in Course Seven, no longer barely passing the exams by the grace of a few percentage points. Course Six and Five felt like swimming in molasses, working so hard for such small returns. Courses One through Four, the first year of medical school, seem like a lifetime ago when I made mountains out of molehills.

I started a podcast and have enjoyed almost fifty conversations On Death. I began my jiu-jitsu practice and had my first competition. I began co-habitating with my partner and we built a home together.

I revel in endings and beginnings because they provide natural points of reflection. Branches grow after leaves are shed. Cut hair removes the old self and welcomes the new. The seed must die for the sapling to sprout.

Winter is dead. Long live the spring.

Long Form Sundays

On Death Podcast

8 thoughts on “On the change of seasons (or Course Seven: a post-mortem)

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