So I walked. I kicked through piles that weren’t mine. I watched a squirrel frantically bury a nut, embodying the very definition of "busy." I sat on a damp park bench and just… breathed. The world smelled like woodsmoke and wet earth. For fifteen minutes, I didn’t check my phone. I just watched the maple leaves cartwheel down the street like tiny, exhausted dancers.
For weeks, I felt behind. Summer’s long, lazy momentum faded into a blur of back-to-school lists, work deadlines, and the odd, unsettling feeling that I had somehow missed the transition. I blinked, and the golden hour started arriving an hour earlier. I blinked again, and the trees at the end of the street went from green to hesitant yellow. my chance to catch up autumn falls
But today, I decided to stop chasing and start catching up. So I walked
There’s a specific kind of urgency that comes with the first real cool breeze of October. It’s not the frantic rush of a deadline, but something softer—a whisper that says, “Pay attention. This won’t last.” The world smelled like woodsmoke and wet earth
So here is my unsolicited advice, and my promise to myself: Don’t mourn the summer you left behind. Don’t race toward the holidays that haven’t arrived yet. Stay here, in the falling. The ground may be covered in leaves soon, but right now, they’re still in the air.