I am grateful for the fall. I know that spring is the time of beginnings, but, perhaps because school was the only way out of my house, fall always seemed more like a beginning to me. I love the deep blue that the sky only achieves in October, and I love colorful canopies above that transition to blankets below of leaves. I love football bleachers and freshman years and transition. And I hate all of these things as well. Perhaps what I love is promise – of growth, of getting rid of the trappings that no longer suit us and starting over. As much as I love the beauty of the falling leaves, I also find beauty in the concept of leaving.

I am grateful for The Fall, my fall. I dropped my basket in the fall and didn’t pick it up again until the dead of winter. I watched nature shed her clothes one season and I, too, shed everything I was until all that was left was a shell. And when I couldn’t get rid of the shell I began to rebuild her. And having emptied out a whole lot of ugly, I was left to reshape what remained, and I found that even the ugly was still me, and was salvageable. I’m still picking the aspects that I want to keep, but every fall reminds me that I’m fortunate enough to have that opportunity.

• Uncategorized