It’s that time of year again.  A crispness is in the air.  Hats, scarves, and mitts are escaping from closets to be donned.  Conversations about carving pumpkins, mulling cider, and picking apples float on the smoke of weekend bonfires.

 

I love you, Fall.  And I’m not ashamed to admit it.

 

But you’ve hurt me.  Time and time again.  I’m not naïve, Fall.  I know it can’t last forever.  But when you promise to be with me until late December, and you’re here and gone in what seems like two weeks, I can’t help but be bitter and untrusting toward you.  It’s not fair.  I mean, can we talk about LAST winter for a minute?  What the hell was that?  You “went to the store for a pack of cigarettes” in October and left me shivering until May!  There was no notice!  There was no slow transition for me to get used to the idea that you were leaving me!

 

You always leave me too soon…and I end up taking you back like the year before didn’t happen.  I’m a glutton for punishment, surely, believing your promises of orange colored days and walking paths carpeted in calico leaves, again and again.

 

So, as you briskly move summer to the side today, please remember that I’m giving up skirts and sandals for YOU, so be gentle.

 

Yours Sincerely,

~Stefani

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