Written last year, when I was still living in California:
Dear Fall,
So, this is how you want to play it. Stop by the beach for a weekend, bringing a few crunchy leaves and hauling two solid days of rain in from the ocean, only to skip town in the night. Oh, sure, you left us some dry winds and trees that look as if they've been sprinkled with cinnamon. But where is our romantic change of seasons, our inspiring yet sobering sense that the world is turning right under our feet? Why don't we get the chance to reflect thoughtfully on our lives as a crisp, changeful wind bites at our cheeks and noses? That's some picturesque shit, Fall, and I don't think I'm being unreasonable when I say that we'd like our share of it.
Look, I understand that you're all about the East Coast. They're metropolitan and hip there; they understand you, or something. All we have to offer here are tacos. Really good tacos. Sometimes with fish in them. But you don't care. Summer ends, and you're gone. And that's fine - you can do what you want. I'm just starting to suspect that we keep doing something to chase you away every year. Is it our flippant disregard for your arrival, our inappropriate wardrobe choices, our untimely beach excursions? Whatever it is, I'm sorry. Please come back.
Maybe I could come visit you over there sometime. After all, I spent three years in Ohio during school, and we had a pretty fun time. Crunching leaves, dressing in layers. Remember the time we made caramel apples with some friends and my face felt sticky for weeks? And then the times I would walk down to the golf course and sit there in the evening dusk until the dampness from the putting green had soaked through my wool coat and jeans, chilling my unmentionables... Those were some good times, right?
But really, Fall, if I'm completely honest, that's just not me, brah. I was born a Californian and I'll always be a Californian, no matter where I go. The dry heat and the winter winds are in my bones. Even if I moved back East, I wouldn't know what to do with all that autumn. I'd suffer a sensory overload from all the colors and the heady scent of spices and bonfires constantly in the air. I just have to accept that I am woefully unfit for Real Weather. And I think you knew that. Somehow, you could just tell that two days of autumn are all I can handle.
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| An umbrella - how quaint! I've only seen them in pictures. And look, it keeps the sky-water off their heads much better than this silly hood! P'raps I should buy one for my poodle. |
I made some hot apple cider the other day. It was out of a package, so it tasted a little watery and the flavor granules never did dissolve completely. I miss you.
Please come back,
Carrie
* * *
Dear Past Carrie,
Now we have REAL FALL again! I bought a gourd at the grocery store the other day, and I've started storing all of my apples in a tub so I have to bob for them every time I want a snack. IT'S THE BEST. YOU REALLY FIT IN HERE.
Fond regards,
Present Carrie
Image via Isn't It Lovely?
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