There are many things I miss about New York. Well, perhaps I should rephrase that. (The previous statement sounds a little too much like I expect all of the internet to pull out tiny little violins and serenade me through my despair over the life I once led which is exactly the opposite of how I would like that to sound.) So let's just say that there there are many things I love about New York. (See, that evokes a much cheerier picture drawing upon all of the great things about a city I left more than two years ago, the kind of feeling that makes you want to go there, not cringe at the thought of yet another one of those
stories.) Perhaps even more than the food and the theater and the endless adventures you can have on foot, one of the things I love most about New York are the seasons, specifically the fall. Or the autumn as those with a much classier vocabulary than I might say. That first day when you need longer sleeves and maybe even a light jacket as you make your way through your daily routine. When the sky is a little grayer and the trees a little more amber than emerald. I love that day, that smell, that season.
The first sign of fall found its way to my neighborhood today in the form of cool, gray weather and it is lovely. Texas, as most of you may know, doesn't really do
seasons. We do hot, less hot and ice, then the cycle repeats. But today, today I am sipping an egg nog latte topped with a sprinkle of cinnamon. I have a new book to read and want to be curled up on my couch indulging in its pages with the sound of the leaves blowing in the wind on my back porch. Today I want to wander through the cute antique stores in town looking for gifts and fun shaped cookie cutters and sinfully expensive preserves to slather on my toast in the mornings. Today I want to sit on a bench in Central Park and watch the people go by. Today I want to fall into the season and just be for a very long time.