Dearest October,

I’m so glad you’ve finally arrived! I’ve been waiting on you for awhile now, especially with what I’m hoping you packed for your visit.

Did you remember to bring leaves falling to the street I drive home on? And what about the pumpkins — you do remember me asking for those, right? I’d like a large one and two smaller ones to sit beside it, please.

And what about bales of hay — did you have room to pack just one for me? I’d like to see it on an evening trip to the apple orchard, preferably one that would require a chill in the air.

I know I asked you to pack a dose of love since I’ve wanted to spend the fall afternoons with someone I could love for so long now but I’ve changed my mind. I’d rather not have it this month and can you please tell your friends November and December that they best not bring it either? Maybe in the new year.

Maybe not.

I do know one thing you slipped into your suitcase, you sly fellow. You think you have me tricked — that the longer you wait to bring out that little bundle all wrapped up in blue, the more of a chance I’ll start to believe he’s never coming. The trick is on you, my friend — I saw his little elbow (foot? hand? who knows?) moving underneath her layer of skin just the other night. You’ve been caught, October, so prepare to hand over the goods (and be gentle while you’re at it!).

I’ve got a lot to show you while you visit for the next 31 days. There’s a nursery you’ve never seen before, a rocking chair you (and I!) would have never expected. We’ll spend mornings at the office and afternoons with more little girls than you could ever imagine. I’ll fix dinner for you in the evenings, but please try not to expect too much — I’m afraid it’s my duty to tell you that not much in that department has changed since your last visit.

We’ll spend the nights together, too. We will read in the chair by the window and there won’t be one textbook in sight this year, October! Long walks in the park, probably just you and me. If you want to know the truth, the very thought of it being just you and me had me terrified for a little bit. I don’t want to walk in that park alone, sit on that bench where I first told him I loved him. That bench will haunt me, perfectly fitting since it’s you, October, here to visit me.

I’m not sure how great of a host I’ll be, but let’s try to make the best of your stay. After all, I’ve been waiting for you for months now. Welcome back, friend. I’ve missed you.

amy beth