OVERALL

It was Fall.

The crisp air filled my lungs as the wind whipped the fallen leaves into a frenzy. I tucked my hair behind my ear and continued up the lane, passing row after row of familiar houses. Before I knew it, there I stood in front of my childhood home. I stopped & stared, taking in all the memories.

Then I was on the ground. Beside me, a football, lolling back and forth innocently, like it hadn’t just flown at my head.
My brother yelled out a hasty apology.

Let the festivities begin.

Spiced Pear

I always loved weekends at the cabin.

Out in the woods, surrounded by trees, no one else for miles. It was relaxing to just get away from it all and take in everything nature had to offer—the fading green of the leaves as they started to turn, the nesting owl in the oak tree out back, waking to the smell of pears as Mom prepared her signature breakfast…George's whining about not being able to watch TV. 

That was when I knew Fall had really begun.

Sugared Cranberry

He always had the window open.

It could be forty degrees out and Dad would still be in the kitchen with the window open—cranberries, apples, and other ingredients strewn about around him. I did what I could—heavy sweaters, earmuffs, obnoxiously loud complaining—but it never made a difference. Then finally, one day, justice was served. With a crash and a yelp, he suddenly came streaking through the living room, broom in hand.

“Squirrel in the kitchen!”

Toasted Almond

“What was that?”

George’s face had gone white. His marshmallows sunk into the fire. I grabbed the lantern and crept slowly toward the noise. George didn’t move. I stopped and stared at him, my head cocked to the side. If we were going to be murdered by a crazy person, we were going to do it as a family. He sighed and snatched up his now flaming marshmallows, holding the stick out in front of him, ready to attack. We edged forward, every crunching step more deafening than the last. Then I saw it: an orange blur, a flash of fur, and a bushy tail.

I dropped my arms. “It’s a fox.”

George scoffed, standing up straight again. “Told you.”

Vanilla Latte

There were monsters in the streets.

I was on the porch handing out candy, my warm drink the only thing standing between me and the chilly night. Ghosts, space men, and swamp things: all were out in force tonight. And then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw it. Candy rained down like hail on the porch as the bowl flew from my hands. The front door slammed and locked tightly, with me behind it.

I don’t do clowns.

Autumn Harvest

Uncle Lou was at it again.

Gesturing wildly, he launched into one of his dramatic tales of Thanksgivings long past. I had to grab the rolls before they tumbled to the floor. George was already moving the turkey and potatoes out of range. Rover, meanwhile, was trained on my uncle’s dancing fork. As the dishes and cutlery migrated down the table, Mom drained her wine glass.

Togetherness. That’s what it’s all about. Well, and not using the good china.