I love fall. The air softens and cools following the sweltering August heat, the sun dips a little lower in the sky, casting a golden haze across the city, and trees shed their embers, freeing them to blanket the ground or travel with the rhythm of the wind. With every step comes a crunch, with every inhale comes the scent of burning leaves and pumpkin spice, and with every glance comes the sight of flannels and bright yellow school buses. Fall is beautiful. But I also love how fall makes me feel. 

Fall has always meant the beginning of something long and familiar. Same hallways, same faces, same routine I’ve known my whole life. There’s comfort in that kind of repetition. Sure, I’d be annoyed by the get-to-know-you activities I swore we all grew out of years ago, yes, I’d begrudgingly wake up at 6:30 A.M. to listen to lectures about z-scores and chi-squares—but I’d also make core memories.

Memories such as going school supply shopping at the last minute (to my parents chagrin), like doing my homework while my dad yelled at the TV because fall also means football season, or planning in the group chat what my friends and I would wear for spirit week, what we’d wear to follow the football game theme, where we would eat after Homecoming, and if we were going to do a group costume for Halloween.

But fall will change after I graduate.

This fall, I won’t be going back to what I know and love. Not the school I know, or the version of life I’ve grown up with. I’ll be stepping into something new—college, adulthood. And while that unknown territory is exciting, it’s also daunting. For the first time, I won’t know the rhythm of my life; the routine and traditions I’ve lived with on repeat for the last thirteen years are fading into finality. I had one last first day, and I didn’t even realize it.

Graduation feels like this grand emotional milestone, creeping up ever so slowly to mark the moment when everything changes—but I think it’ll be more subtle than that, more gradual. I won’t feel it on June 8th; I think I’ll feel it later when I throw away all of my high school stuff, recent and old, and see a paper dated “2021”, or maybe when the clock strikes 2:50 P.M. and nothing happens, not like I’m used to, but certainly when the school email I’ve had for almost a decade gets shut down.

I don’t think graduation will feel much like a celebration then; sometimes that kind of change feels like an ache. Like standing in your barren room after you’ve packed it up, or saying goodbye to people you used to see every Monday, even when you’re on bad terms.

However, there’s hope somewhere nestled between the ache and loss. There’s potential for new beginnings—even though it won’t be the kind I’m used to. Maybe ‘first day of school’ won’t hold as much weight when I’m in college, but welcome week and move-in day can take its place. Maybe I won’t dress up like I did for high school football games, but I look forward to experiencing my first tailgate. There are also club fairs, fall and spring fests, and fun fact: colleges have homecomings too. It won’t be the same as high school, but I can still make a memory out of it.

Fall is still my favorite season, but it’s growing up with me.