This morning on my way into work, I drove through a shower of leaves. Already golden and bronze, they danced through the air above the road, tumbling and spinning on their way to the other side of the thoroughfare. The huddled mass of them performed a serious of dainty pirouettes, blurry spirals, lazy swaying. Staring at them through my windshield, barreling toward them, I saw that it is actually fall.
And though I love autumn - the crisp coolness in the air, the warm colors it inspires, its call for red wine and desserts made with nutmeg - I'm not quite ready for it yet. I feel like it was just yesterday that I stopped wearing my jacket, and here it is already time to put them back on.
So days like this, when it's cool and not quite warm enough to go out without a sweater, I remember Belize. The hot wind, the thick air, the blaring sun. If I think hard enough, I can remember what it was like to wear my bathing suit every day, to dread the need for an actual shirt. I can remember the sand between my toes and the sun on my shoulders.
Days like this, I want to go back, if not just for a day, to taste the warmth and feel the breeze that I won't find here for another eight months.