Fall is one of my favorite seasons. The weather is perfect. It’s cold in the mornings and sometimes carries throughout the day. There is occasional rain and wind. Fall isn’t just a season; fall comes with a vibe that no other season can bring. The crisp air, pumpkin patches, and pumpkin-flavored drinks are my favorites. Nature transforms from green and vibrant to red, orange, and yellow, and everything becomes cozy. Fall is great, but there are some things I don’t like. Losing an hour is not something I like. Also, everything is so dry because of how cold the air is. Along with that, my summer shade has gone away, and I am now white. My concealer is too orange for my face. Anyway, there are good and bad things about fall, but overall, the good outweighs the bad. I love how people act during the fall and the clothes that I get to where, and I can finally put a sweater on my dog.
Up until last month, I thought I was invincible. I had gone the whole school year without getting sick once. Yet, here I am stuck with the fourth cold I’ve got in the span of 30 days. I can’t remember the last time I could breathe through my nostrils when I didn’t have to stand up every 10 minutes or I would drown in snot. What is going on? There is some vicious cycle where everyone around me keeps getting sick- they mutate it, and I get the disease again. I know I’m part of the problem but I am very upset!
And this week, not only did I become re-infected with the same, dreadful disease that I had spent the last month battling, but now I have allergies. I am all for the super bloom California is gearing up for since all this rain, but now I don’t think I will ever feel comfortable again (at least until this Summer).
Today it was 86 degrees. This weather is so gorgeous it makes me sick. When I wake up and the sun is shining through my window, I want nothing more than to let my bed swallow me whole until nine pm the same day. I think that it’s so ironic how such a beautiful day could make me want to hide in my room for so long. When I sit in class and look out the window as the heat ripples across the ground, I want to cry and bang my head against the desk. I. Hate. It. I like to put in my left airpod and listen to the same playlist over and over again all day. It mainly consists of Dream, Ivory, Oscar Lang, Deftones, The Walters, and Cocteau Twins. If you were to look it up, it sounds like the feeling of taking a bath at three in the morning in the dark, because that is my comfort. I love to be alone. But not in a sad, I’m so depressed because my life is just the hardest thing in the world kind of way. I like it because it reminds me that every day is the same, and I hate that feeling but in a weird way I love to feel the things that I hate. I love routines. I love when it’s cold outside but I’m wearing two shirts and a hoodie. When you wake up and the sky is grey, you can’t see 50 feet in front of you because of the haze. I love to walk alone at school and wait for the day to end. It’s the same feeling every day that I crave. I love to hate being sad.
I got a cold. It came on last week Thursday, with a dry throat. I suffered through two days of school, then went home, where it got much worse. I tried to hang out with a friend on Saturday and just felt horrible and fell asleep. I was in bed from then until Friday morning.
Being in bed all week actually gave me some much-needed rest and relaxation, but the looming stress of schoolwork hung over me, making it less enjoyable. I managed to get my work done, but I couldn’t turn a corner on my cold. I was, and still am stuffed up, even though I feel better now (Sunday).
I pushed myself to drive to school on Friday, an hour and forty-five-minute drive both ways which in retrospect I should not have attempted. I was still sick, so I woke up late, got to school late, went to two classes, and halfway through the third, decided to go home. I did take my important stats test and finalized a journalism story, but it wasn’t great.
photo credit: today
In addition to my fatigue, I got denied from my top school, which sucked. I spent the weekend resting, which was great, and I hope to catch up on my work this week, slowly climbing up a mountain of papers, tests, and materials. 9 more weeks soldiers.
Cold winter days often seem to fall short of the media’s predictions. We scheduled an early departure from school in anticipation of dangerous storms, though we’re met with trickles of water creating small puddles in dry dirt.
I tend to dress dramatically for the cold. I wear two pears of socks, two jackets, and keep a spare pair of gloves in my backpack. I prefer to overheat than freeze from the brisk winds. My wardrobe has many jackets, though only one of them I have deemed warm enough for January weather.
Although the cold is difficult, I do hope for adventure’s sake that we experience more rain. I keep my prized umbrella tucked away in my backpack, waiting for the day when I can use it again. I enjoy the trek from classroom to classroom as I use my umbrella as a shield from the harsh sky. February is likely to bring more rain, and I won’t put my umbrella away until the sun is revealed.
Although the air is frigged on this winter night, we drive around blasting music with the windows down.
Why one may ask?
Because sometimes there’s no purer form of joy than singing your favorite songs with two of your favorite people.
In that moment, all your fears and worries fly out the open window and you are living in the moment, watching two people sing and smile with every word that leaves their mouth.
This is one of the moments that you would replay over and over again when you rest your head on the pillow for nights to come.
I would not trade the little moments like this for anything.
So the simple answer to why we drive around with the windows down on a frigged winter night is simply for the joy of it, because in the end, you only have once chance to make memories like this with the ones you love.
Seasons and memories have always been so weird to me. I almost get seasonal depression, but not in the season one may suspect.
I get this feeling when it’s cold; I’m content with everything and the most peaceful I have ever felt in my life. My heart almost freezes, as if to stay in that feeling.
There seems to always be a memory associated with this feeling in my head. It’s one of the strongest memories from my childhood, though that doesn’t say much. It’s a haze of little things.
I remember the dress. It was a new, red dress for Christmas.
Photo Credit: Pinterest.com
I remember the bear. Its paws lit up and it played a song. It was my favorite gift that year.
I remember the restaurant. It was right outside the mall, about 30 minutes away from home.
I remember the driveway. It was littered with pine needles.
I remember my parents. They were happy, for once.
Everything was perfect. It is the only time I look back and think I had a picture-perfect childhood. It’s the only time I don’t remember yelling. It’s the only time everyone got along. It was the only time there was love everywhere.
Maybe that’s why I get so happy when it’s cold outside.
I love fall. The sheer aesthetic of sitting by a window with warm glowing string lights, drinking some sort of hot tea, surrounded with the smell of books. The fact that it is finally cold enough to be wearing wool socks and sweatshirts. The feeling of cold air filling your chest from the inside, making your home feel so much warmer.
I have to admit, I miss the cold winters back home in Germany. Right now, it is almost freezing there, the leaves that are turning red-orange, some almost pink-purple, are covering the roads like a warm-colored blanket. The lakes are topped with a paper thin layer of ice in the morning, and windows and cars are frosted the way they would be in movies. Horses’ coats are becoming thick and soft, and cows are being brought from their pastures back into their winter barns.
Credit: view.stern.de
I remember how much I hated the feeling of biking up the hill to my house after school, watching the clouds turn to a darker grey as the sun set behind them, and feeling the warm air in my lungs being replaced by the cold, making my throat hurt by the time I got back home. But I always loved the moment I walked through the door, embraced by my jumping dog and the heated floor, maybe even a fire in the chimney. The best days were the rainy ones. Your house just feels so much cozier when you don’t want to go outside.
Credit: moondog.de
I miss that weather. I miss the grey skies and the rain-soaked lawns. I miss the muddy roads and paths going through the forest by my house. I miss collecting chestnuts with my friends and cooking them with their whole family. I miss being freezing cold with numb fingers and an icy nose. I miss how later in the winter the trees would look like they had been covered in powdered sugar, reflecting the grey-purple of the afternoon sky.
I miss my home.
And no matter where I’ll live throughout my life, no matter how many times I’ll move and find new homes, that will always be my first home. My family’s home. My real home.
Last week I had a cold that lasted forever. I had a runny nose and coughed a lot. It felt like the typical cold I’ve had in the past, so I assumed I was going to heal soon, and was not worried about it too much.
One morning I woke up and there was this noise in my ears. It sounded like the buzzing noise in airplanes. At first I wasn’t bothered by it, but it got louder as hours passed. After three hours I couldn’t stand hearing the buzzing noise, and didn’t know what was going on. I started to wonder if I was hearing it in my head or in my ears. Then, I started worrying if it was going to break my eardrums, since it was so loud. One thought led to another, and I started to think that I was going to lose my hearing permanently.
It turned out that the noise was just caused by my cold, and was not harmful at all, but it made me realize the beauty of hearing. This sounds cheesy but I realized how beautiful sound is. Music, fireworks, friend’s laughter, babies crying, someone yelling your name from far away – all of these sounds are beautiful and I can’t imagine a life without hearing them. I am grateful I can hear and hope never to forget to appreciate that.
There’s a certain thing I love about rainy days. Being able to take the day off to snuggle under a mountain of blankets and pillows. Breaking into the food cabinet for hot chocolate and marshmallows. Making a batch of warm, gooey cookies. Watching an old play and eating popcorn.
Driving in rain is so peaceful. Watching the drops race each other down the window. The rhythmic swipe swipe of the window-wiper. The drops making little thuds on the car roof. The heater blasting hot air like an invisible blanket.
Playing in the rain is so fun. Getting soaked from the puddles brought on by an endless downpour. Earlier this year, a group of friends and I had a water fight. We filled up buckets or cups or whatever we could find and just threw them at each other. It would’ve gone on for hours if it wasn’t for dinner. We looked like sad little puppies when we came inside, and immediately dried off.
One thing I love doing in the rain is going in the hot tub. I know, that sounds quite odd. But when I’m at home, we’ll turn it on and it feels so cool. The cool drops on your head and shoulders contrasts so much to the hot water keeping you warm everywhere else.
Even though rain can be inconvenient, like when a wedding or party has to be moved inside, it still is something I look forward to. The memories I’ve made because I had to stay inside because of the rain, and the memories I’ve made because of getting soaked by it, are ones I truly cherish. Sadly, in California, it’s drier than a saltine cracker and it rarely rains.
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