Her name was Autumn.
She had long locks of fiery-red hair.
I think she was always destined to love the fall season.
And I can promise you. She did.
There was something about the crispness of autumn air that she absolutely adored.
She would walk through the forest, trees changing from green to yellow to amber.
She would go out of her way to step on extra-crunchy leaves
And she would radiate happiness into the void.
She liked to go to our local farm and pick blackberries.
She would hide behind the shrubbery, sneaking bites into her mouth.
I’d look over at her mauve-stained lips, and she’d meet my eyes.
The corners of her mouth slowly upturned. Gleaming.
The musky-sweet smell of campfire that rose into the sky as wisps of smoke
Wearing chunky sweaters with sleeves far too long for her dainty arms
Burning spiced candles while cuddled up on the couch under a thick quilted blanket
Drinking hot apple cider with her pumpkin-shaped mug
Every fall time, I imagine her
Sitting at the bottom of our stairs
Putting on her brown leather boots
Bundled up, prepping for the cold
Looking so delighted
She was as flawed as anyone else.
But I don’t want to taint her image.
So I look back only at our happy memories.
And I live on for her.
I used to hate the fall time. Now it’s my favorite time of the year.
Every October, I walk through the forest
On our normal route.
I go out of my way to step on an extra-crunchy leaf
Just for her.