It’s time for that sense of nostalgia to visit, again.
That first sign of autumn, I could always sense it. It’s not obvious, but it’s in the air. Or probably everywhere.
It’s the sunny early morning.
It’s the smell of that warm coffee.
It’s the touch of a black sweater.
It’s the song that we’d sing along in the school hallway.
It’s the sound of that piano.
And it’s the wind that smooths everything, but also brushes everything away.