Autumn is the season that speaks to the very depths of my soul more than any of those other three jokers and I feel like it just walked out of my party without even saying goodbye.

Rude, Autumn.  There we were, wearing mustard-colored cable-knit cardigans and drinking pumpkin spice lattes from Metropolitan Market, skipping hand-in-hand through golden light and fallen leaves.  Then I wake up the Monday after Thanksgiving and suddenly it’s December and you are nowhere to be found.  Not cool.

The other seasons just don’t get me the way you do.  Summer tries her hardest to leave me with a melanoma every year.  Spring is just so darn damp all the time. Winter makes me cover up all my cute sweaters.

Autumn, I miss you.

You’re purdy.

You like all the same colors I like.

Colors like bright hunter orange.

I’m going to miss our adventures, friend.  You’re truly lovely.

So now it’s Winter’s turn, and she’s fine, I guess. I mean, she’s no Autumn, but she does have snow, sometimes.  And Christmas is pretty fantastic, with that show-stealing baby Jesus, the twinkling lights, and its very own soundtrack with all those carols.

Go ahead, Autumn, and do whatever it is you do while the rest of us are taking our little spin around the sun.  We’ll see you on the other side.