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Friday, November 1, 2013

Ohio Autumn

Tree lined walkway en route to my dorm. Not half bad.
Photographed by: Kira Remy

Aesthetically, this fall isn't much different from what was my favorite season at home. Although I am close to 400 miles away from the town in which I grew, the leaves seem to be the same color, and the air a bit colder than it was a month ago. 

Even though I'm surrounded by the same fiery pigments that tint the trees at home, and feel the same chilled wind blow through my hair... there's something missing this autumn. As October crept upon my small college town, an emptiness concurrently crept into my heart. A season that used to bring me so much joy now seemed to bring nothing but bitterness and atribilious feelings. 

As I strolled through the vivid landscapes on campus I couldn't help but imagine the picturesque view of my backyard. The week of Halloween quickly came, and with that I realized the only contact I had with anything pumpkin was the $3 pumpkin-spice latte that I gulped down the morning before. What in God's name possessed my broke college kid self to blow $3 on a latte, I couldn't tell you. Athens is rumored to be haunted, so maybe it was some sort of caffeine-hungry-poltergeist that made me do it. In addition to the lack of jack-o-lanterns in my life, I felt a strange shortage of all the other fall-ish things like fresh apple cider, hay rides, bonfires, and the tradition of watching Hocus Pocus and being scared of Bette Midler's thoroughly convincing witch cackle every time. 

The night Halloween arrived was also the night I realized I was no longer a "kid" anymore. Now don't get me wrong, I understand it has been quite a few years since it was socially acceptable for me to go trick-or-treating, but for some reason it seemed like this was the first year that I hadn't. The dorm rooms were eerily quiet, which was strange to experience on a night that I had associated with so much excitement and laughter as a kid. Not to undermine the school's celebrations of course--they did throw a hundred-thousand-person blow out the weekend before. But still, the night was dull, and not a piece of candy was in sight. 

Fortunately, I will return home next weekend, and although it is too late to carve a pumpkin, and the hayrides are overdue... my mother has a bowl of candy waiting for me at home, and maybe... just maybe some fall-time stew.  

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