Fall
It’s 95 degrees today. On the East Coast this would be considered an Indian Summer. In Los Angeles, it’s just another day.
You live here long enough, and you forget that seasons don’t just exist in Hollywood films. That in the rest of the world summer is over and Fall has begun. And it’s a shame, because I miss fall.
I miss the leaves changing. The crisp air. That feeling I used to get when I was a kid, and I played outside stacking leaves into giant piles so I could jump through them.
I miss the way the air tastes. That feeling I used to get when I walked through pumpkin patches till I found that perfect one that I could carve into a jack-o-lantern.
Sure, Los Angeles has warm apple cider, but it doesn’t seem to taste the same when you’re not actually cold.
The days don’t change. Nothing changes. Except me.
And maybe it’s not that I miss Fall the most. Maybe it’s just that I miss that yearly reminder, that once, a long time ago, I was just a kid.
