I want fall.

Cottonwood Bonfire

I want fall. The real kind, where we wrap up in blankets and cheer for the home team with hot chocolate in mugs and a real sense of happiness. I want happiness, the fleeting kind Christians seem to bash sometimes, choosing joy over it day after day. I want a case of happiness. The warmth of it wrapping around me. I’ve got joy but I want immediacy. I want fall. The kind that comes when trick-or-treating is done with kiddos and laughter fills the air. I want the magic that came with the falls of my past. The warmth that comes when you need more than just a sweater to fill the hole that summer left. You need community and you find it with people who’ve known you a million years and laugh at your quirks but love you the same. I want to be settled. To know and be known. To not be in this transition state with borrowed furniture and white walls.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m so incredibly thankful for the job that I’ve been given this year. I’m learning more about my God and my self than I’ve ever learned before. I’m on the fast track to a fantastic relationship with the One I’ve longed for deeper communion with for years. But I’m not home. Not yet. And sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it’s sad to recognize that I’ve lost what I forgot to appreciate when I had it. That childhood is over, but more than that college is over. And with it went the strongest friendships I’d ever experienced. Not that they’re gone, per say, because those people will always be “my people”, but we’ve each moved on to a new and exciting adventure, and sometimes it seems a little cruel that I’m living forty minutes away from my college home, just close enough to be connected, but far enough away to make it all a little more difficult.

And today I’m longing for fall. To walk across that quad and wrap my arms around the people I love. I’m longing for fall, to get dressed up all warm and cozy and watch leaves change as the sun sets and have clothes that smell forever of bonfires. I’m longing for fall, unsure if it even still exists, in this place called the “real world”. Longing for fall, hoping for the contentment that I’ve always so associated with toes warmed by the fireplace and family all in arms reach. And somehow this life seems a little bit better knowing it’s somewhere around the corner.

Are you living in fall? Can you bring me with you?

Hallie.

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