Dear Fall,

I just wanted to write you this letter to let you know how much I miss you. When I decided to move down to Florida for a few months, I didn’t realize that it would mean leaving you behind. When I realized it, of course I was upset, and yet I decided to come anyways. They tell me that you’re here, but it’s just not the same fall that I’m used to.

Yes, Florida is a lot warmer than New York. The thought of wearing a hoodie outside is almost always immediately followed by the idea of me passing out from heat exhaustion. When other people say it’s chilly at night, I wish I could just sit outside, next to a bonfire and roast marshmallows. I know that you’re generally just a transition into the frigid season of winter, something I doubt I will experience any time soon; the cooler temperatures are something I miss.

It does get windy here, but there’s a difference. The fall winds I know are strong, but they aren’t there to destroy. They steal the bright, colorful leaves (something else I miss about you) from the trees and throw them to the ground. The winds here, from what I’ve experienced, almost seem malicious. They don’t seek to spread the beauty of the trees to the ground, but rather try to uproot the tree altogether. They strip buildings and tear down power lines.

I think the thing that I miss most has to be the apple orchards. Orange groves just aren’t the same thing. Apple orchards scream fall. I have so many memories of climbing the apple trees in the crisp, cool air, just to grab the perfect one. There’s nothing better than eating an apple straight from the tree, or enjoying a fresh cider donut. Okay, maybe the part where you bake them into things like pies and dumplings. Nobody makes orange pie, but everybody loves apple pie.

Maybe one day, we’ll be back together again, but for now, I’m going to enjoy being in Florida.

With Love,

A Displaced New Yorker