The faint scent of clover wafts into my bedroom window. My favorite TV shows are returning to their regularly scheduled weekday slots. Ah, it’s that time of year again, my favorite American holiday: Pumpkin Spice season.
Its arrival has become as controversial as Christmas, as it appears to creep up earlier and earlier each year, and with it, a deluge of impassioned thinkpieces about the drink’s ubiquity and its steady encroachment into summer. But in California, where the advance of time is only detectable by the seasonal decorations of storefront windows and the premiere of a new Kardashian reality show spin-off (Rob & Chyna airs this weekend!), the emergence of the Pumpkin Spice latte is a welcome harbinger of change. A holiday that isn’t corporatized, but resolutely corporate—built by a team of branding geniuses on the premise of spices pilfered by colonialists. I’d argue that Pumpkin Spice season is actually America’s best secular holiday.
I had my first Pumpkin Spice latte a few years ago, from the Starbuck’s location at The Grove, in the center of L.A. I was a skeptic, a snooty coffee snob whose $5 cappuccinos from the gentrifying café in my neighborhood were always Instagram-ready. But, after one sip, I was hooked: the warm liquid conducted a full assault of flavor on my taste buds, a puissant mélange of cinnamon, nutmeg and clove meant to reproduce the experience of eating a pumpkin pie. (Worth noting that until 2015, this iconic recipe didn’t actually include pumpkin as an ingredient.)
From there, I went on to other Pumpkin Spice products: pancake mix from Trader Joe’s, lollypop’s from See’s. A Pumpkin Spice Yankee Candle. The spirit of Pumpkin Spice was upon me.
As a Muslim who was deprived of the celebrations of Christmas and all other religious (and non-religious) holidays, Pumpkin Spice season allows me to celebrate the advent of a new calendar term. It’s a holiday that requires no God, no religion, although sipping a Pumpkin Spice latte while surrounded by the symbolic accoutrement of fall—paper leave cutouts, pinecone-studded wreathes, decorative gourds—feels devotional somehow.
I didn’t grow up with pumpkin pies. The only squash my mother bought were the kinds she used for couscous dishes. But drinking these flavored lattes evokes a strange artificial nostalgia, a communal feeling I never felt. Here, I could claim participation in a culture that was never mine to begin with. It’s America’s best populist holiday, a celebration that excludes no one except those too distracted by their own arrogance to enjoy it. Because it isn’t about a food, it’s really about a feeling. So here’s to wishing you a Happy Pumpkin Spice for years to come!
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Parents of young children get more time with them if they work from home.Photo credit: Canva
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We could start a rumor.
Grieving couple comforting each other
This response to someone grieving a friend might be the best internet comment ever
When someone is hit with the sudden loss of a friend or loved one, words rarely feel like enough. Yet, more than a decade ago, a wise Redditor named GSnow shared thoughts so profound they still bring comfort to grieving hearts today.
Originally posted around 2011, the now-famous reply was rediscovered when Upvoted, an official Reddit publication, featured it again to remind everyone of its enduring truth. It began as a simple plea for help: “My friend just died. I don't know what to do.”
What followed was a piece of writing that many consider one of the internet’s best comments of all time. It remains shared across social media, grief forums, and personal messages to this day because its honesty and metaphor speak to the raw reality of loss and the slow, irregular path toward healing.
Below is GSnow’s full reply, unchanged, in all its gentle, wave-crashing beauty:
Why this advice still matters
Mental health professionals and grief counselors often describe bereavement in stages or phases, but GSnow’s “wave theory” gives an image more relatable for many. Rather than a linear process, grief surges and retreats—sometimes triggered by a song, a place, or a simple morning cup of coffee.
In recent years, this metaphor has found renewed relevance. Communities on Reddit, TikTok, and grief support groups frequently reshare it to help explain the unpredictable nature of mourning.
Many readers say this analogy helps them feel less alone, giving them permission to ride each wave of grief rather than fight it.
Finding comfort in shared wisdom
Since this comment first surfaced, countless people have posted their own stories underneath it, thanking GSnow and passing the words to others facing fresh heartbreak. It’s proof that sometimes, the internet can feel like a global support group—strangers linked by shared loss and hope.
For those searching for more support today, organizations like The Dougy Center, GriefShare, and local bereavement groups offer compassionate resources. If you or someone you know is struggling with intense grief, please reach out to mental health professionals who can help navigate these deep waters.
When grief comes crashing like the ocean, remember these words—and hang on. There is life between the waves.
This article originally appeared four years ago.