From Unmarked Box to Unmarked Box

This morning I went out into the warm blustery day, rain and wind, and that deep grey of autumn. Fall's first real rain. I remember that rain years ago, arms slung over the railing on my patio. We had waited all day for it to come, Michelle and I, and then we watched the sky open up, felt that rush of release as the crackle in the air broke, the warm smell of summer dust rising up damp from the pavement. I don't remember what we did that day—some 8, 10 years ago—but that moment is burned into my memory. Elbows slung, sense of possibility, that feeling of coming alive. Yes, I think I remember now. Harvest, et al. There is different and richer kind of magic to fall. Yes. Everything is going to be just fine.