Two days ago it was high summer. Hot still air filled with the buzz of cicadas and the smothering, shimmering heat that brings mirages on the horizon. This morning, fall is here. In the middle of the night, I pulled my blanket over me, and found all of my children huddled under months-forgotten covers in the pre-dawn light. Cool air poured in the flung-open summer windows, so useless two days ago, now causing me to ponder pulling them closed.

Over my sundress I shrugged on a pink cardigan, and padded to the kitchen in barefeet. Fall is pouring in the windows, changing the sunlight, and heavy on the slow, breezy air. Crispness hangs on the outskirts of the vision- if you look too fast, it’s gone- but it’s there, like a dim star at night. Hello, fall… you’re a little late this year. It’s okay- all the seasons have been a little behind, and I don’t mind. But I’m glad to see you just the same.

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