Fall is one of those seasons that sneaks up on you. I know it almost seems like all of them do, all in their own way. But I always forget about fall, I always forget how lovely a season it is. I always expect spring to be a respite from the cold. I expect the first snow to fall and then melt away. I expect the long, hot days of summer. But it’s always fall that I forget. I always forget about wearing my big down vest from the 70s, and double-layering a long sleeved tee with a short sleeved shirt and going out and being just a little bit chilly. I always forget about how you get to wear a scarf without a jacket. The light breezes and the leaves changing. It’s the pleasant forgetfulness that I love so much. It’s like a brilliant and fun memory that someone reminds you of, and you remember it like the day you first experienced it. You remember that feeling. Fall reminds me of playing in the leaves. It reminds me of going to soccer practices and having it just cool enough to not be overheating after an intense drill. It reminds me of sitting on the sidelines to sports games. 

I’m not exactly sure if it’s summer that distracts me. Or if, in the past, it was the beginning of school, or the idea of work, that would keep my mind off of how much I loved it. And being forced, or finding a way to be outside – that’s the biggest gift of all.

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