The darkness is there in the morning, and stirs earlier in the evening.
The sweaters descend from the top shelf, and my feet are always cold now. Still I feel alive when the cold touches my skin and a deep breath in refuels my insides.
Our winter wind is the sound of rain on the window, and the leaves change so quickly there is no time for gathering, jumping or making scarecrows that last. Fall doesn’t exist here, or at least not in the way it does back east. There is nothing like fall in Ontario, just like there is nothing like cherry blossoms here in the spring. The vibrant red and golds are replaced with never-ending green grass. I never knew I held a soft spot for red until it was no longer in my field of vision.
Is it strange that the time of year that makes me pull out the layers also makes me feel the most exposed? Yet in a good way.
I’m my plaid jacket. It holds the ability to zip shut, but I almost always leave it open.
What article of clothing best describes you?