fall.

I've always been a fan of every season for their own different reasons. I love the possibilty of traveling in the summer, the beach and the amusement parks; the cool breeze and new life of spring; the cuddle time, and snow patterns of winter. But there's just something about fall that pulls me in. Nevermind the fact that I AM a fall baby (Scorpios, let's go! (;), but to me, fall just embodies everything I love about nature, life, etc. and puts it into 3 blissful months for me to enjoy. Yayy, God.

As a child, I spent a lot of my playtime outside, and as I dig further into those recesses of my mind, I realize that the majority of my memories are conjured during the fall. I remember discovering that tomboy energy I had when I met my first playmate Keith. We built flaky, colorful forts made of the falling leaves from the tall trees surrounding our small cul-de-sac. As I got older, the games got a little more sophisticated, and the number of boys in the area increased; so we played tackle football and "army" at the little field in the middle of our block. Mounds of damp leaves always provided as good cushion for me when the boys wanted to be a little too rough on the only girl playing outside. Walking to school always held the promise of watching leaves of different colors mingle onto cars and side streets. And I discovered my love for writing and poetry sitting on a mountain of red, brown and orange leaves mom had just raked up earlier that day. My first journal entry consisted of a lot of misspellings, incorrect grammar and immature subjects, but it was mine nonetheless.

Fall has also been host to some not-so-great times in my life, i.e. my near death experience, paternal issues that my family made it through miraculously, and more recently the death of a woman whose impact on my life and others' lives will never be surpassed.

All seasons represent change, but fall represents what's in between that change. The temperature transitions to a mild warmth, free of humidity. Leaves fall to the ground in preparation for the new cluster to sprout from the trees, while some plants either die or cease growth to prepare for the harsh winter. Fall is full of metaphors, similies, analogies, rhythm and stories.

Fall is the ultimate poem I am desperate to write.