Raking leaves with my sister and dad. Pure love. Pure transition. The season of the harvest. The anticipation of school and Halloween. The satisfaction from helping out with family endeavors. Feeling together. Feeling safe. The crunch and crackle coming from the collection of leaves. Peace.

Every Friday morning at school, there would be a bake sale.

I never bought anything, but I always told myself to bring money for next time.

I specifically remember it always being cloudy, I remember smelling the sweet muffins and cakes.

It felt like home.

But now I've grown older and I haven't seen a bake sale since.

Which I guess is good because I would spend all money on chocolate and sit down and cry.

The rhythm of the school year has forever turned my autumns into a beginning. When the air becomes crisp, the leaves swirl in the wind and the days get shorter, I am reminded of truly becoming a 2nd grader or taking the bus for the first time. I am dizzy with a nervous cocktail of anticipation, hope and fear. I am brought back to those moments and I discover I am ready to start something, anything new.

The wind snips at us, but we pay it no heed

Door to door to door

Walking, strutting, dancing

Bags heavy and hearts light

Trick or treating with friends

On Halloween.

Bundled up with blue jeans,

Tennis shoes,

School colors.

Rain or shine

Or even snow.

The marching band drums

Shook the wooden bleachers.

Shook me to the core.

Swishing pompoms.

Steaming hot chocolate.

Stomping feet.

D-FENCE!

OFFENSE!

Go! Go! Go!