She loved the fall.
The colors of the leaves as they changed.
The move from shorts and tank tops to cozy sweaters.
Even the smells of fall. The spices that seem to linger longer in the fall air. Carried by a breeze that shook the leaves and mussed up your hair. The only problem with the city in the fall is that the breeze passing through all the skyscrapers rarely stayed slow but rather picked up speed forcing people to hurry and find shelter. Loose pieces of paper and other debris scurried down streets before getting stuck in sewer drains or other objects.
But luckily today was not like that. The breeze stayed a breeze, people walked seemingly slower. She passes a small grocery store and stops to get an apple and water. She continues her journey before stopping at Central Park. She finds a bench and begins eating her apple. She watches as couple, both young and old, pass infront of her with no care in the world. Families with small children played in the leaves that had fallen from the trees. Taking in the crisp yellows and reds she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.
She thinks about a time that seems so far away to her now. When she had no care in the world. To a time before death and murderers. To when on the rare occasions her family would go to a place outside the city where they could pick apples and raspberries. Where scarecrows decorated fields and bales of hay were where you sat and ate what you picked. And where you could go into a great huge patch and pick your own pumpkin. The only rule being you had to be able to carry it. The same breeze carried laughter as she ran through the rows looking for the perfect pumpkin to carve. The last time she'd been there was years before her mother's death.
A smell reached her. One of her favorites. A smell that brought to life memories of pumpkin bread and fresh apple pies. Of standing in the kitchen watching them in the oven willing them to cook faster so she could have some before it was inevitably given away. But more would be made. Coming home after school and being assaulted by the smell as it wafted through the house, mixed with the smells of her mother's pot roast and the small fire that had been lit at some point in the day, making the house stuffily hot but as night came she would be thankful for.
She breathed in deep again. She smiled to herself and opened her eyes. She lifted her apple to her lips taking in the smell and crunch as she bit in, savoring the tartness. She stood up and continued back home more relaxed than she'd been in weeks. As if it were a sign from her mother the smell of cinnamon flew past her in a gust of wind lingering in the air, following her home.
Kate Beckett loved the fall.
So the title actually came to me first, so really this story comes out of the title. There's a town about an hour away from where we are and you can still pick apples and raspberries there and sometimes pumpkins but they got rid of the huge pumpkin patch a long time ago. But it's so much fun and really pretty there. And the fall is my favorite season so I just kind of drew off of some of the things I really like. Anyways I hope you enjoyed this. Please review.
