My favorite month is October.
You would think it would be December — my birthday, Christmas, my mom’s birthday, Christmas, my birthday. But at some hazy point in my past I knew without a doubt that October was the ultimate — the bee’s knees, the motts.
There’s something so essentially autumnal about it — more than September or November. It’s orange leaves and sweatshirts and football and bonfires. It’s the smell of leaf piles and apple cider. It’s comforting, a brief breath of time that feels exactly as it should. Without fail, every year.
Today was a gray October day with spitting rain … and then actual rain as I heaved food home in ripping paper bags the three blocks to the train station and then the absurdly long trek from the far side of the tracks to my car. A stranger shared his umbrella with me for part of the walk — it was such a beautiful reminder of the goodness of people. That gets forgotten a lot in the course of a day at work, fighting losing/lost battles and being constantly challenged to the point where you have no idea if anyone is on your side.
Tonight I’m sitting in my little office and the darkness has taken over the skies — so much earlier than a few months ago when we first bought this house. It’s beginning to feel like home — as we settle into routines and do the things we used to do somewhere else, with different routines. I cooked yesterday, and I cooked this past weekend — and the kitchen has stopped feeling so foreign, so untouchable. It’s starting to feel like ours. Coming home and bundling up in a rain coat to take Lucy to get the mail feels normal. Turning on Sonos in every room and filling the house with music — it’s no longer a novelty. And tonight, I’ll curl up on the couch and watch my Steelers — my poor, depleted, beautiful Steelers — play their first divisional game of the season. While eating quiche. With my hubby and my little fur ball Lucy. Life is good.
Like I said, October is my favorite month and I am looking forward to this one with such joyous anticipation. And it’s so nice to be home.