Crunch... crunch… crunch.

Oh, how I have missed that sound. How silly am I, to miss such a simple thing? But it is the simple things that we miss the most. Oh, how I missed that sound, that brittle crunch of the fallen burnt orange leaves that scatter across the ground, signifying the change of seasons, the new weather to come. I take these little things for granted; I miss those fallen leaves, that crunch sound follows my every step, the brisk air so cold and fresh with every breath. Leaves themselves signify so much more than just a leaf, they stand as the symbol for my favorite time, the time when the whole world changes slowly but yet so fast, and it seems as if everything is about to become new again. The air is brisk, yet somehow fresher, and the sky bright and the leaves changing, and I love the world as I see it changing before my eyes, because for once, its changing is tangible, and for once, I can really truly see the world change as I feel it change, contrasting the constant feeling of the world changing around me but nothing looking different. So I hear this wonderful crunch beneath my feet, and I hold all of these thoughts to this little simple crunch of a fallen leaf.

I was treated to a trip to Oklahoma, where I got a taste of my Colorado home. As I walked around campus, people-watching the mass of busy bodies as they prepared for the football game, I heard that crunch and couldn’t keep the grin from creeping onto my face. That little taste of home. Oh, how we delight in the simplest things, that even in a trip to another state I find myself most enamored by the things as simple as the crunch of the leaves.

Texas, in all of its glorious humidity, fails to obtain quite the crunch as the brittle air of the Colorado and Oklahoma brisk air ensures, and I have found myself robbed of the pleasure of stomping through the leaves, hoping to hear that crunch and instead find myself kicking through soggy leaves and mud. Although it is such a little detail, it is this tiny detail that I am grateful for. Amid craziness and cold weather and football rivalries, this little crunch brings my head down to reality and reminds me of what matters and what I miss and where I have been, if not where I am from. Just this little crunch points out the change from one home to a new home, a home that is different, although will no crunch, still a happy place to call home.

This sweet crunch beneath my feet; who knew one sound, one feeling, could hold so much meaning, so much weight behind this one sound.