I make myself cold cocoa. My mother tries to cheer me up and tell me that some people enjoy fall, the beautiful colorful leaves floating down from the trees in the cool air.
Staying home from school because of the weather, not being sunburned by the hot air, but for some reason, I don’t understand what she’s saying, for I have a different perspective.
We are two different people, but she doesn’t know. She thinks I’m her clone.
I sit all alone by the fireplace, shivering from the strong winds.
I wish I could appreciate the smell of the air after it rains. I wish I could appreciate the beautiful leaves falling from the trees. I wish I could appreciate the change in seasons. But I’m not ready for change.
Cold rain pours down on my house, tip tap, tip tap.
I get in bed and take out my pencil. I begin writing my thoughts about fall, for I’m a writer after all.
Just a simple thought could be a masterpiece. It’s a different way to think of life.
Though fall is not a season I’m happy about, it will show me the way through hard times and once you write your feelings down, everything will be okay.
My mom taught me that. When my life was hard I always turned to her. We would argue but everything would turn all right.
After all, a single season is not the end of the world.