in the backseat of August.

Listening to: Angel Flight by Radney Foster

This time of year comes every twelve months or so, and maybe it's just me, but late August always brings homesickness. It's not even homesickness, really, just a longing for a time when a familiar feeling comes back.

It's not even the season that's my favorite, it's a feeling.

It's the feeling of the frosted October breeze as it whispers through the eventide. Denim jeans and fur-lined boots. Empty notebooks and leaves that scuttle across the gravel. And the way the trees sway way up in the sky.

Roasting marshmallows and late night bonfires. The feeling of home when you sit on a tailgate watching the flames reach to caress the sky. Scarves and hand-knitted hats.

It's the feeling of longing when you're standing in the heat by the road, watching the skies for the northerner that the weatherman promised that day. Watch it come in, watch the way the tall grass rolls under the first gust of wind in the distance, sailing closer and closer until the heat leaves to a crashing burst of cold.

Guitar strings and candles. It's pumpkin pie and hot chocolate with marshmallows.

It's a hayride while you and a candy apple are wrapped snugly in a quilt, nestled under the night sky.

Cold air.

Gloves and mittens.

Bright colors.

Poetry.

Sweaters.

Denim jackets.

I love this time and I love this life, but right now, sitting in the backseat of August, I'm homesick.


xo,
jessie suzanne