Photo byNeal KharawalaonUnsplash

Autumn conjures many images for me. Falling leaves, bright trees, pumpkin patches, hayrides, bonfires, and s’mores. It’s scary movies and haunted houses, cozy evenings by candlelight, and wearing my favorite sweater when I curl up with a book. Balanced between the glaring heat of summer and the cool greys of winter, Fall feels like a slice of perfection.

It’s more than just an image. Even the thought of the season is a full sensory experience. Autumn is pumpkin spice and crisp apple cider. It’s a hot mug warming cool hands and the crunch of leaves beneath my shoes as I walk through town. The season is a brisk breeze and a Carole King song playing in the background. It’s a pumpkin grinning and fantasies coming alive, if for one day only.

Fall is for Falling in Love

As a teenager sitting on the back of hayrides, I always thought that Fall would be the perfect season to fall in love. While the other couples were snuggled together, I usually found myself either immersed in nature or lost in a good book. I’d never met anyone who felt like they fit with me, but I imagined that one day, I would share all the beautiful parts of my favorite season with someone I loved — someone who loved me, too.

Time passed, and I married young. I’m sure I shared many seasons of fall with my then-husband, but there’s no sensory image attached. I know there were pumpkins and corn mazes, and I have an inkling of a bonfire somewhere in the background. But snuggling together beside a fire and being in love — I’m not sure that ever happened.

I can remember those things with close friends. I have clear pictures in my mind of that happening. But the grand romantic season I wanted became an elusive dream.

I longed for romance, but that longing was ignored and dismissed. I put the dream in a box and packed it away. I’d take it out sometimes and look at it — still a sparkling idea of how life, and love, could be — but then I’d sigh and put it away again.

Fall, My Favorite Season to Share

When I became a single mom, I had the pleasure of introducing my children to my favorite season. I could revel in pumpkin patches, s’mores, and hayrides with the two people I loved best right by my side. We gave ourselves over to the joy of it, and every year, we’re reminded of all the parts we love best. We’ve developed traditions all our own, and it’s beautiful.

As another Fall approaches, I’ve noticed a curious thing. There’s a softening in me and an expansion. It feels like a quiet smile, arms spread, falling into a leaf pile. It’s happiness for the sake of it, and it stopped mattering long ago if this is the year I’ll have a romantic partner to enjoy it with me. When I picture this precious season, I’m joyful — whether I’m alone or with my children or spending time with friends. Whatever I’m doing, I’m falling in love, again, with fall.

Falling for Fall, Again

I still think that this would be a beautiful season to fall in love. With my senses heightened and my happiness quotient at its highest, what could be better? And then I remember that every Fall, I do fall in love.

I fall in love with the beauty of nature. From delicate spiderwebs to the crisp curl of fallen leaves, I get lost in adoration. The wind moves briskly through the trees, and I smile at the hushed whispering of secrets told. Sweet nothings, indeed.

I’m in love with Autumn light and the way it makes everyone beautiful. I adore the cozy nights and relish candlelit evenings with a new book or old favorite in hand. I love picking pumpkins, picking apples, picking sunflowers, and picking myself back up from the harder season to gently put everything down. The pumpkins, the apples, the sunflowers, and my worn-out worries.

Timing is Everything

I stopped putting my happiness on hold for the idea of a grand romantic season shared with someone special. I remembered that I am someone special, and the feelings of bitterness, envy, and sadness faded and fell away. Only a small hint of wistfulness remains. It floats up, and I hold it in my heart. Then, I let it go again to return to my enchantment with the season.

Every Fall, I fall deeper in love with the season — and the way it reminds us that letting go can be beautiful, too. I know it won’t last forever. The season is such a short time, bookmarked between seasons of extremes. Nothing lasts, and seasons change, but Fall will come again.

Originally published on Medium