I can’t even describe how a proper autumn makes me feel. I can’t even think too much about a mid-October sky with a breeze that makes me pull a sweater over the goosebumps on my arms while a bright sun still warms my cheeks. An October afternoon with multi-colored corn and leaves blowing down the street and October evenings with thin clouds and pink skies. The smell of food stands and livestock at the county fair and pumpkins smiling at me from porches. Recess on the playground when I could still argue my way out of a proper jacket and suddenly being old enough to drive to the pumpkin patch myself. It makes me ache. Rainy mornings that made me glad to be asleep on the itchy rug in my parents’ bedroom and rainy mornings that make me glad I made tea before work. October is the chilly breeze of my childhood and the crisp campfire-smoke-air of my now. It makes me happy and sad at the same time and it all wells up inside of me in a sunny, chilly chest-deep pain of nostalgia and longing for things-to-come.