It’s kind of cliché to love Fall, especially as a white girl, a blonde white girl no less, marching around in knee-high leather boots, bundled in a scarf, sipping Starbucks on my way to class. But it’s a cliché, a stereotype even, that I embrace. Because the thing is, I do love Fall.

I mean, what’s not to love about watching greens burn into hues of red, orange, and yellow? My soul sits at ease as my boots crunch dead leaves blanketing the Earth. Summer, that season and it all it was, is gone, next one to come. The death of something bright and beautiful, floating in the air, sitting on the ground, reminds me to let go, live here and now, appreciating the colors before they brown.

There’s something about heat disappearing into a kiss of chill that captivates my senses. The air tastes fresh with each breath I take. My heart snuggles into my green fuzzy blanket. And I wrap myself into sweaters, fold myself into scarves, comfy and warm. Not too hot, sweat stains bleeding through my pits. Not too cold, knuckles purple and ripping as they beg for moisture. No, Fall manages to be Goldilocks and find the temperature that’s just right. It’s this in-between ecstasy that I adore as I sip cup after cup of green tea.

Fall owns a sort of momentary pleasantness. It’s short and sweet, brisk and bright. Sweeps in quickly before it moves out with the first flakes of snow. A love affair that makes you a little light-headed before it’s gone and forgotten. But see, that’s why I love Fall. Because so many things are in and out, swirling us around as we stare captivated at their beauty before they die, suddenly, beneath our feet. Life, in a sense, is in a constant fluctuation of Fall. And when I stare out my window in the morning, look at the bleeding leaves hanging on to their branches, I smile. I remember that, today, right now, those leaves are there. Today, right now, they are not yet fallen. Today, right now, I will look at them, put on my scarf, and walk to class sipping a cup of my favorite green tea.