The arrival

Maybe it is because I grew up on a sailboat in south Florida. Maybe it is because we eventually moved onto land when I entered middle school...to a house with no air conditioning. Maybe it is because I had no choice but to live through blazing Texas summers for 15 years.

Whatever the cause might be, I am simply in awe here in Chicagoland when the leaves begin to fall, the weather becomes brisk, and the seasons turn once again like a fragile, pink ballerina that I once had on a jewelry box. When I opened it with my little hands, a simple tune would play and she would slowly turn around in a circle with her pointed toes and outstretched arms. She was magical.

And so, the turning of the seasons round and round again, like my treasured ballerina each time I opened my special box, is simply that: magical.