It’s Thursday, again. The 7th one this semester, which can’t be right. What is it about each new semester that makes it don a jet pack and skedaddle away faster than the one before?
Fall in Chicago is so pleasant, most of the time. Leaves swirl in wind eddies on the sidewalk, and the sun shines while you walk through the brisk weather to the grocery store. It’s lovely… until dust swirls with the leaves and gets in your eye and strange men in cars honk at you while you innocently walk to get your groceries. We all know how much I could talk about that last bit.
The heaters have turned on, and tis the season of baking. There’s something magical about it. It’s like the last few weeks of the year where we humans of the midwest will see each other. If we see each other from December to March, we’ll be in big puffy jackets and mittens and boots, and we won’t be interested in meandering down the street. We’ll be shivering into new buildings.
So, I’m trying to savor the experience of fall. Because I know what comes later.
I walked behind a girl a few weeks ago in the Old Town neighborhood, and we happened to take a few of the same turns. She had that city girl in fall look to her, with a scarf and wind blown hair. I followed her (not because I’m creepy but because I was headed the same direction) around another corner and into a classic Chicago neighborhood of brick two-flats, where she scampered up the stairs of one and disappeared inside.
I wanted to yell after her, “Your life is adorable!”
But then I thought better of it. No, instead I’ll immortalize her on my blog.
Today brought me a box from home with my sweaters and tights in it, along with new troops of scarves to relieve the old ones of their duties.
So much magic in fall.