Ode to That 4:30pm Sunset

By Amy Berrafato, LMFT, CST

Daylight savings is such an interesting time of year. Fall in Chicago brings so many tricks and treats: beautiful autumn colors, chilly sunshine, flannel shirts, apple picking, pumpkin spiced donuts, football hoodies. I am in such awe of the beauty right now, and yet I could probably appreciate it more if I weren’t so terrified of the winter to come.

Last weekend, I looked forward to staying up a little later and getting that extra hour of sleep. All the parents I know commiserated about how that dreaded time change throws the kids’ sleep schedules off, leaving everyone crabby. We reset the clocks, and feel a bit unsettled on Sunday when we first notice the sun setting at 4:33pm. It’s kinda cozy, but also weird, a little comforting, perhaps really scary.

And it’s just So. Freaking. Dark. 

Darkness often creates space for stillness and reflection, despite/amidst the lows it may bring for those of us who struggle with seasonal affective traits. I’m reminded of a poem excerpt that hit home for me last year. I leave it here for you, dear one:

“How the Light Comes” 

Jan Richardson

I cannot tell you

how the light comes,

but that it does.

That it will.

That it works its way

into the deepest dark

that enfolds you,

though it may seem 

long ages in coming

or arrive in shape

you did not foresee.

And so

may we this day

turn ourselves toward it.

May we lift our faces

to let it find us.

May we bend our bodies

to follow the arc it makes.

May we open

and open more

and open still

to the blessed light

that comes.