Well I hate to admit it, but it seems that the fall season has finally arrived in NYC. Tonight the temperatures are to drop into the low forties, and there is a slight chance of frost.

This type of weather brings forth fond memories from my childhood. Living most of my life in Florida, we rarely saw temperatures drop below 50 all winter long. But there were a few occasions each year that we (my siblings and I) would wake up to find the shingles of the neighborhood houses bathed in glistening frost. The stale smell of heaters being turned on for the first time all year filled the air. After spending the day shuffling around at school, we would return home to find that Mom had every window in the house open in an attempt to entrap each breeze that blew past. I never understood why, but now I believe that she was trying to relive memories from her own childhood in Ohio.

My father and brother would come home from weekend hunting trips to Christmas lights twinkling in the trees out front. Dad's red fleece jacket always smelled of wood smoke; they would often build a fire in the woods to keep warm. I find myself there... my brother, sister, and I sitting on the floor with our legs under the coffee table; eating soup that had been cooking all day while looking out the screen door to our backyard; finishing the soup and running outside with no shoes on in the cold grass to climb trees until our hands were numb.

Interesting how a blast of cold air and a few holiday decorations can take you back so far and make you yearn for the future all at the same time. I'll be home for Christmas.