Spring into summer

choosing joy in the liminal

Jun 24, 2026

I am an observer of the seasons. The vernal equinox is my version of New Year’s, allowing my new beginning to fall during spring instead of winter. I consider myself lucky to live in a place where each season gets its time to shine; freezing winters, blazing summers, springs and autumns that burst into color.

In the Northern Hemisphere, summer only began a few days ago. And joyfully, as I write to you, I am stretched out beneath the warm sun, allowing it to bake my skin under its welcome heat.

My focus is often on the symbolism of spring; rebirth, fresh starts, hope. But where should my focus go when spring melts into summer?

Here in Arkansas, we have already experienced weeks of sweltering heat and the thick kind of humidity that makes walking down the street feel like wading through a river. The pool beckons me to come feel its cool embrace.

As I write to you, I’ve just come home from my part-time summer gig. A job reserved for summer is likely something that will become a thing of the past in only a short while. I graduate in December and after that, my life won’t be segmented into semesters or ruled by the school-based calendar. Summer will just be a season, not a break between terms.

But that’s what summer feels like to me: between. It marks a transition between school years, between eras, and now that it feels like my last real summer, it’s a liminal space between education and career, an elevator ride from youth to the real world.

I wanted to write something different this week. I planned out a tightly structured and well-researched essay that needed lots of love before being sent out. The thought of pushing myself to my limits to get that finished before my self-imposed deadline started to make my stomach churn.

So instead, I’ve decided to write about joy. No stress, no research rabbit holes, just my thoughts about this strange season of life, from me to you.

It is in the liminal spaces that thoughts tend to bounce out of control like pinballs. If I let myself, my mind will speed into tight spirals about where I will live and work and breathe once my time as a student ends.

But then I remember it is summer and I am young. I may never get a summer like this ever again.

I could push myself to my ambitious limits, or I could ride the wave. I could strap myself to a desk chair and stare and spreadsheets that promise to cure my future, or I could lay out beneath the sun.

If spring is about choosing hope, then summer is all about choosing joy.

In our fast-paced, algorithm-driven world, joy feels hard to choose most of the time. And it’s not like all the pain and suffering in your life, and around you, is all that easy to ignore.

To me, choosing joy isn’t about indulgence or numbing yourself or neglecting your responsibilities, but about perspective and posture.

Think about the moment you exist in right now: where can joy be found? How can it be made?

Joy can live in the shadows, too.

My day has not been devoid of negative moments. I’ve had to do things I didn’t want to do, I’ve had thoughts and feelings that sting.

But I find that the best joys are found in the unremarkable days. Today is not the best day of my life, likely not one I will look back on and remember, but it is still joyful.

To me, joy is that I have a job that I like doing. It’s that I get to live in my childhood home this summer and my mom is cooking me dinner tonight. It’s that I get to have an hour of time to myself where the only sound is a choir of birdsong. It’s that I get to write about joy while the sun kisses my shoulders. It’s that there is beauty in everything, even the things that look ugly at first glance.

The reason I didn’t finish the essay I was working on is because I’ve spent a lot of my free time this week with friends. It’s because I had family I hardly get to see come visit this past weekend. It’s that the books on my shelves have been whispering my name, beckoning me to discover what’s inside. And how lucky am I?

Joy can be hard to choose, especially when things are hard and you feel stuck in between. But I sometimes think choosing joy is an act of rebellion, a choice made against the odds.

I hope you choose it with me.

Sincerely,

Caroline Cherry