I was the only one outside the day it snowed in October, the only other noise than the soft hiss of falling ice. Running through the Autumn trees with pale face and rosy cheeks, fingers like freezing twigs, I saw the fog of my breath for the first time. And as I do every year, I celebrated quietly with a feeling that means something like—”it has begun.”
Dear Peter, my fellow tumbleweed chronicler! My name is Alana. Thank you for writing to me (both times), and please pardon my delay. I feel torn between the excitement of traveling and wishing to find a true home. I thought so much today about the idea of ‘home’ and felt so homesick for other times and people. It can’t just be geography, surely. But change (they say) is good, so I wish you 10,000 thrills on your journey across America. Tumble on, Tumbleweed.
On my way to eat chocolate and drink tea in bed on this rainy, blustery night.
It’s finally time to start wearing woolly socks to bed, to snuggle up in a cotton/feather cloud and dream until the chilly dawn.
always wistful - she
gathers longing like forest floors
collect autumn leaves
Open your eyes, please. Open your eyes and see how beautiful the world is and know that you have your whole life ahead of you. Don’t be afraid to live it.
How much has changed since I last wrote to you. How many dreams, nightmares, heartbeats, dips under the waves. Fall has come. Outside it’s chilly and rainy, and I’m going to tell you a few Septemberthings that must not be forgotten:
Pumpkin cupcakes with cinnamon cream cheese frosting. Drinks, rain, and one last time swimming freely under the cover of midnight in the cold, churning ocean. Frightening each other and laughing (laughing! finally! Can you believe it?). Palm reading/believing in the future. Hearty champagne toasts to ourselves and hushed slumber party conversations in the last minutes before sleep.