A gold orange leaf shivers in the frost kissed breeze. Its grip on the branch it calls home is tenuous. Soon, it will have to let go.

Autumn has arrived. The ferns have all turned brown, curled up, and surrendered themselves to the soil. Rust red pine needles cushion the forest floor. The maples and poplars show off for one another, dressing themselves in rich, honey yellow and bright, brassy orange. The birds, in a somber mood, quietly perch on naked branches, their cheerful symphonies forgotten, lost in late August. The forest holds its breath. Anticipation laces the sky, and the brush shivers with excitement.

Seasons are shifting. Though summer is gone, the taste lingers, like that of a lemon drop dissolved, leaving only a coat of sugar on the tongue. Winter looms ever closer, a vast sheet of white waiting to be filled.

A new chapter is unfolding. The woods prepare themselves for change. As do I.

My life has reached a kind of autumn. The sweet, carefree summer of childhood is slipping away while a new season rushes to replace it. Winter is fast approaching, and that scares me. But winter, I must remind myself, is beautiful. Not in the sweet, golden way that summer is beautiful.  Winter has a different beauty. An exhilarating beauty made of diamonds and lace.

I won’t allow myself to fret over coming seasons. I need to be like the forest, and savor autumn while I can. It is brief, and I intend to enjoy it.

Soon, the leaves will disappear, the ground will be a cold, white merengue, and the branches of every tree will sparkle with ice.

Soon, I will move away from home, leave my friends, family, everything familiar, and begin a new journey. I’ll pack my belongings into boxes, and decide which things I can’t leave behind. Clutching my security blanket, I’ll rush to unlock the dorm room in eager anticipation of  my expanding world.

I am filled with excitement. I am filled with anxiety. I am ready to jump into the lake of life. I am standing on the shore, afraid to get wet. I feel stifled by the smallness of this place I’ve always lived. I am comfortable in the embrace of the family I’ve never left.

Autumn is a season of in-between. A bridge connecting summer and winter. It’s a lovely time. Summer’s green makes way for fiery oranges, reds, and yellows. The last garden vegetables ripen and ask to be harvested. Apple trees burst with sweet, red ornaments. As the temperature drops, people bundle up in warm, woolen sweaters and stoke their fireplaces. Winter hangs in our future, summer dwells in our past, and we float in a cinnamon scented limbo. For a magical moment, time means nothing.

Autumn is endless and over in a flash. 

It is a time for reminiscence and nostalgia. A time to remember bike rides and bonfires and swimming and sunning and sleeping late. It is also a time for hope. A time to wonder at, wait for, and dream of what comes next.

I’m afraid to leave the safe cocoon of being little. It would be easiest to play Peter Pan and refuse to grow up. But that’s not what I want. Not really. What I want is to learn and live and change and do.

And I will, soon enough.

In the meantime, I’m trying to enjoy this in-between. I’m admiring the trees and their vibrant, burning light show. I’m carving a pumpkin, recapturing Octobers past. I’m drinking hot apple cider from my favorite mug. I’m raking up a pile of leaves, and jumping in them. Autumn is short, so I’m embracing it. Childhood is short, so I’m embracing it.

This time next year, my life will be worlds different. I’ll be living away from home, taking on a whole new level of responsibility. Legally, I will be an adult, but emotionally and mentally, I will still be a child, not yet fully developed. I suspect this formative time will be both exciting and terrifying. The reality of this new life is fast approaching. I can’t go back, and I can’t stop here, so I must venture forward.

A gold orange leaf shivers in the frost kissed breeze. It loses its tenuous grip on the branch it has always called home. It knows it is time to move on. It takes a leap.