Fall and Christmas

I love fall. I love Christmas. But I think I love fall more than christmas and I finally figured out why.

Christmas? It's like your Great Aunt Midge. She calls in August to tell you she's coming for the holidays. You groan and squint your eyes, sick with worry about everything you have to do before she comes. Oh holy night. Clean everything, down to the fresh-air return grate on the a/c. Your menu must be planned, practiced, and perfect. And that door jamb that's got scuffs on it? Might as well drag out the paint and rollers - that must be tidied before she arrives. Don't forget the lawn. Pristine, down to the glitter-embossed reindeer. Leaves raked. Driveway blown. Perfect. And don't even get me started on the gifts... What do you give her? How much should you spend? You know she's going to judge you when she opens it. Your gift selection says everything about you, you know. Stress, stress, stress. Money, money, money... I'm exhausted just thinking about it! And if that's not enough, she pollutes your life with reminders for 4 months before she finally shows up on your doorstep, white gloves and all. Songs, commercials, texts, and emails. Everywhere you look, you see her beady eyes inspecting every preparation you make for her impending arrival. When she finally gets here and the inspection is over, you really are so glad she came. You enjoy her visit for three days and then you're just as glad to see her go.

But fall? Oh fall. Fall is my cousin Kelly who lives in California. She writes movie scripts and goes camping for vacation. She joined the Peace Corp, but now she's just a Calofornia granola cruncher who grows sprouts in her window sill and once made her own pants from wheat she harvested with her bare hands. I haven't seen her since ... Huh. I can't remember the last time I saw her, but one day I open my front door to go check the mail and there she is, standing on my doorstep with her arms open wide. Oh what a reunion! We hug and laugh and cry and the kids are giddy with delight. Aunt Kelly always convinces me to let them stay up late watching rated R movies and they somehow always manage to get chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast when she's here (even if they are vegan...). I can't recall what day she got here, but I never want to see her go. We reminisce and drink pumpkin lattes and run outside until our throats are raw with the chill air. We play in the leaves and fly kites and make s'mores and laugh and laugh and laugh. One morning, I wake up to find a little note announcing her departure and a package she left for the kids. Frost is on the ground and I can smell winter on the air.

Unlike Christmas, fall arrives with no pomp, no preamble, no preparation. You're stuck standing in your closet when the cool air arrives, at a loss for which jeans actually fit. You hail a silent "suh-weet!" when you drive through the local bagel shop and notice that pumpkin has returned to the menu. Fall is simple and unadorned. And as much as you rejoice at its arrival, there's no countdown and no long list of to-dos to complete before she plops herself on your front porch and stays for a spell. And as much as you lament her departure, there's always the memories you made and the promise of more fun to come.

So welcome, fall. We sure are glad to see you. Won't you stay for dinner?