July 5: The First Day of Winter (According to My Dad)

Every family has those sayings that make perfect sense to them and absolutely no sense to anyone else.

In our family, July 5 was the first day of winter.

Every year, without fail, my dad would wake up the morning after the Fourth of July, look at the calendar, smile, and announce, "Well, today is the first day of winter."

As a kid, I thought he had lost his mind.

It was July. We still had two months of summer vacation ahead of us. There were swimming pools to visit, camping trips to take, backyard barbecues, and long evenings that never seemed to end. Why on earth was he talking about winter?

The answer was simple. My dad loved to snowmobile.

He wasn't wishing summer away. He genuinely enjoyed every season. But as an avid snowmobiler, July 5 marked the point where he was one day closer to the first snowfall. Throughout the summer, he'd spend weekends in the garage getting his sled ready. There was always something to adjust, clean, replace, or improve. Preparing for winter was almost as enjoyable as riding through fresh snow.

At the time, I thought it was funny. Today, I think it was wisdom.

Every July, I find myself thinking about him. Usually it's when I walk into a store hoping to pick up a few summer items and instead find backpacks, Halloween decorations, and racks of winter coats. My first reaction is always, "Seriously? It's only July."

Then I hear my dad's voice in my head. "July 5th is the first day of winter."

The older I've gotten, the more I've realized he wasn't really teaching me about seasons. He was teaching me something about transitions.

Life is made up of them.

Some transitions arrive right on schedule. We graduate, start new jobs, become parents, watch our children grow into adults, and eventually retire. Others arrive without warning. A health diagnosis. A layoff. The loss of someone we love. An unexpected opportunity. A dream that changes direction.

Some transitions are joyful. Others leave us wondering how we got here.

All of them ask something of us.

After spending more than twenty-five years helping organizations navigate change, I've come to believe that managing transitions may be one of the most important life skills we can develop. We spend a lot of time teaching people how to achieve goals, but very little time teaching them how to navigate the space between one chapter and the next.

That's often where people struggle the most.

One of the biggest lessons I've learned is that transitions begin long before the event itself.

A leader starts thinking differently before the promotion becomes official.

Parents begin letting go before they ever move their child into a college dorm.

Retirement starts before the farewell lunch.

Healing begins before life feels normal again.

The transition starts while we're still living in the previous season.

Organizations experience this every day. Leadership is focused on where the business needs to be next year while employees are still trying to make sense of last month's changes. Neither perspective is wrong. They're simply standing in different places on the same journey.

The same thing happens in our personal lives.

Part of us wants to hold on to today because it feels familiar. Another part knows tomorrow is coming whether we're ready or not.

Maybe that's why transitions feel so uncomfortable.

We're learning to live in two seasons at once.

Looking back, I don't think my dad was rushing toward winter.

He was simply preparing for what came next while fully appreciating the season he was in.

There's a difference.

I think that's a lesson worth remembering.

Preparing for the future doesn't mean you're wishing your present away. It means you understand that life keeps moving, and you trust yourself enough to move with it.

Today is July 5.

In my family, it will always be the first day of winter.

Thanks, Dad, for reminding me that every season has something to enjoy, every season has something to teach us, and every season eventually gives way to the next.

BGPD Rule: Life isn't lived at the milestones. It's lived in the transitions between them.

Pull on your Big Girl Panties. You don't have to fear the next season. You just have to trust that you're capable of navigating it.

Further Reading:

Entry 59: The Messy Middle Is Where the Magic (and Meltdowns) Happen

You’re Solving for the Future. Your People Are Still in the Present