This has been the strangest fall of my life. Because it wasn't fall. Even today I had to chuck my sweater due to the temperature spike we seem to have every afternoon. I love you, San Antonio, but this ain't no fall.
No leaves turned. In fact, most leaves went from dead brown to vibrant green with the rainfall we waited for all summer.
No real desire for "fall" foods. It's not cold. No one wants hot chocolate and pumpkin pie. Well, I mean, if you set it in front of me, I'd eat it, but it's still pushing 80 outside.
None of the old Thanksgiving traditions. Turkey day was still wonderful; the extended Lemon family hosted a great lunch out at Merrimack, the family property in Winnsboro. And it was nice. Truly. And some of the trees out there looked a little yellow, so that helped invite some fall feelings. But it still wasn't my mom's Thanksgiving. It wasn't a day spent with my family in the kitchen, listening to the Carpenters Christmas Portrait and the Nat King Cole Christmas album on my parents' record player. And that made me feel a little depressed.
Total apathy in the face of Christmas decorating. We have no money. Really. So Christmas decor is out, plus we'll be out of town for 10 days this month, including Christmas, so there's really no point.
And still, I miss it. Whatever "it" is.
I don't miss the places. I don't miss the things. I just miss the magical feeling that was the holiday season of my childhood: crisp air, snow flurries, a world in hibernation, anticipation. I miss being little, when the holidays stretched luxuriously in front of me, instead of speeding by with little recognition.