But I’m used to it.
I like it.
My kids’ memories of what Autumn is will be vastly different than my own. They won’t get leaves to play in until closer to January when the two trees in our front yard drop them quickly. Funny enough, the buds are already booming at that time and they’re never bare for long.
But we have leaves.
That was something I always did as a child. We’d build piles as high as the sky (or so it felt like) to run and dive into as if it were somehow softer than a pillow. I’d use those leaves to create houses at recess with my friends. We’d gently create the blueprints of our dream home in brightly colored leaves that didn’t yet crinkle and break into bits when you stepped on them. Of course it was a house where my bedroom was the biggest.
October in Michigan
Although the kids don’t get to experience what I did as a child, I will never experience what they are right now. Southern California is their home, even more than it is mine. I still make the foods I’ve brought with me from the Midwest, the decor that hangs within our walls are also tagalongs of memories when Autumns were spent in my home with my mother. So, the rustic country, the popcorn balls and pictures of what Michigan looks like at this time of year are things I can share with them.
And someday, they’ll be able to share the memories of their Autumns with me.
As they remember it.