Autumn Love Song

It smells like fall today.  Like Michigan fall.  Like Michigan. 

I love Seattle, but I miss Michigan.  I miss my family and my friends and the seasons and the friendly and the accents and the Lakes and the smells.  Each season has a distinct smell in Michigan.  You can step outside, breathe deep and know exactly what time of year it is.  Fall is the best, it's my favorite season, my favorite smell.  It's pumpkin pie and crisp leaves, tart apples and Halloween, thick tights and bittersweet endings, spicy bourbon and Friday night football games, family and fireplaces, chilly mornings and melancholy nights.  It's a little sad, a little disappointing.  It is without hope or promise.  And then, just as quickly, it becomes warm and delicious and bright.

This is every day during the autumn in Michigan.  It doesn't happen as often here.  It is a lucky day, an ever-so-slightly sad day, a day made for a glass of Cabernet, to smell fall here.  And then suddenly, there's that familiar tug, that pull towards the middle. 

No matter where I am, my compass always points towards Michigan.  Always my home, forever fall.