Falling

Fall has always been my favorite season. There’s just something about the colors, sounds, and smells of all those leaves that makes me feel very comfortable, and right at home no matter where I am. Something about that sensory experience allows me to travel backwards and nearly re-live every autumn I’ve ever experienced. And when I think of my life, I nearly always picture myself reliving it in the fall. When I remember growing up in DC, in my mind it’s in the fall (many would say it’s the nicest time of year down there). When I think of Maine, it’s the fall (who can resist a New England maple tree whose leaves you swear are on fire?). And even when I think of Philadelphia, I think of the fall. I just do.

And yet while this time of year is supposed to be marked by leaves falling slowly to the ground, today as I look out my window I am amazed to see snow falling. Big, white flakes slowly falling from the sky. Seeing snow on the colored leaves is something I don’t think I have ever seen.

And so maybe this fall is different from every other one I’ve lived before. And it’s been wonderful, because it may actually be the start of something new. It won’t simply be another chapter in the Falls of My Life. Rather, it will bring a new twist; new memories; new love.

For this autumn, in addition to the leaves and the snow, I too am slowly falling.