Fall is my favorite time of year. So why does this fall hardly register with me?
The leaves are just beginning to turn, and there’s only two weeks till November (which I don’t consider fall). The temperature has just cooled down. There is no flamboyant maple tree standing against a cloudless azure sky. There’s no fireplace to curl up in front of. I had my annual pumpkin spice latte at the beginning of PSL season, which was way back in September. PSL season keeps coming earlier each year!
I’m too old for crushes. Crushes remind me of fall, and some of my best poems lay at the intersection of crushes and fall. I do not have that excitement in my life anymore, nor do I have that frustration. But it has diminished the brightness of fall somewhat.
Life hasn’t slowed down enough for me to appreciate the season. Between teaching a new class at the university, writing, and two moulage sessions, I fear things will never slow down. Maybe Christmas, I tell myself. But I want life to slow down sooner, if only for long enough that I can enjoy that flamboyant maple tree.
Words Like Me 