Ode to October

I'm on the right.

I am smitten with autumn. It can do no wrong by me. (Even in 1997, when it ripped my heart out and shattered it into infinitely smaller and smaller pieces ...) I love its warm days and cool nights. I love its crisp air that holds the scent of drying leaves. I love that it brings night, my always-welcome guest, around a little earlier each day. Perhaps I love it because it anticipates winter's hibernation, when my solitary self can hide without guilt.

To me, the fall marks new beginnings. This might be a legacy feeling from school years, now sadly long gone. As a kid, it was the only time of year when we got to buy anything with impunity. We got a gross of #2 pencils, probably 50+ packets of notebook filler paper (college-ruled for the older kids, wide-ruled for me and the younger kids), new colored markers, fresh glue sticks ... 

New beginnings also mean change, however subtle. With these comes reflection. I don't tend to reflect on the passage of time with traditional markers, such as calendar years or birthdays. Autumn is my time for reflecting.

What does this fall hold for me? I'm not sure. I feel like I'm in a period of change and exploration. While most autumns have been really invigorating and special, this one is so in a different way. I am more quiet. I haven't made plans, set goals. I haven't seen many friends. I am reveling in whatever each day brings, even if those days implode. I feel grateful for this time.