The Character of Fall

A personal essay on fall

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I've recently decided that fall is my favorite season. It's the latest addition to a growing list of self-discoveries from the past couple of months. 

There is something about the crispness of the fall air. It lacks any false pretenses. Somehow the autumn air that we feel but never see holds clarity. A certain sharpness that makes me filled with hopeful anticipation for what each day holds.

The colors of fall speak to me. Like a sirens call. The waterfall of Earth tones bubbling from the treetops and slowly cascading into streams of browns, oranges, and reds on the emerald ground. The leaves reflecting my melanin skin with red and yellow undertones. Engaging in a capricious game of mimicry. 

I often find my masked face contouring into a soft smile as the aromas of cinnamon, spices, and pumpkin fills my senses. Fabricated smells created by a myriad of places. From the bath and body works candle in my room to the local coffee shop on-campus, the scents of fall follow me like a shadow in the wake of the sun. These fragrances give me a sense of familiarity. To what? I'm not really sure. But I recognize it and I delight in its return.

So I welcome this new fall as a season of new growth, new healings, and new perspectives. Fall is the imitation of humanity at its most vulnerable and beautiful moments. Therefore, I cherish fall and every fall to come. 




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