When I ran this morning, the chill wind blew on my face like so many 5k's I used to race. Fresh-cut grass mixed with the scent of dying leaves. The little children screamed.
There was a taste to my saliva, that mixture of lactic acid crystallized by the same cold air, that doesn't come in the sun and heat. I wondered what special children's soccer league might have them running up and down the fields at this time of year, what socioeconomic tendencies I might assume from year-long soccer drills, when I remembered.
I had forgotten about fall. The wind was chill, the leaves were dying, the children were screaming - because it's fall.
This is supposed to happen.
1 month ago