The Promise of Fall

I adore crisp autumn days, the roar of a football crowd, leaves crunching under my feet, and, most importantly, the start of a new school year. As an elementary student, I didn’t like school. I loved school. I couldn’t wait to wear my new shiny shoes, meet my teacher, and dive into learning. The studying part came easy to me, but the social part? That was a different story. I wasn’t small and cute and popular. I was tall and chunky and shy. It was hard to say which was worse, my eyesight, my wavy hair, or my athletic ability. I spent a lot of time alone on the playground, reading books or writing plays, and pretending I didn’t mind being by myself.

In the sixth grade, a miracle happened. That fall, I found a friend—a clever, glowing, beautiful friend, who laughed at my jokes and made me laugh, too. She liked me, despite my obvious flaws. And because she saw something in me that I couldn’t see I, in turn, learned to start loving myself just as I was.

I still look forward to going back to school in the fall. No longer a student, I now talk to elementary school kids about writing children’s books. When I speak, my eyes wander around the classroom looking for that awkward girl with the big hair and the bigger glasses, who is sitting just a bit apart from the others. I want to tell her I know her pain. I want to tell her she is more wonderful than she realizes. I want to tell her things will get better. But all I can really do is pray the miracle of friendship will find her, and change her, as it did me. Here’s to the promise of fall. Here’s to all that we long for no matter our age, to feel fresh and alive and new and loved.