That Magic Moment

One of the things that I have missed a lot since moving to Florida was experiencing four distinct seasons. Prior to living here I'd always taken for granted the cycle of the seasons from Winter to Spring to Summer to Fall. But I miss it. Technically we still have four seasons but it really feels like two - the wet season when humidity is high and the days are warm, and the dry season when humidity is low and the days are cool. Florida always seems out of sync with the rest of the country, too. Winter comes very late here and it's hard to get into the spirit of the Holidays when it's 80+ degrees outside, and the short cool days that pass for Winter here are over so very quickly. Spring is even sprung on you before you're ready. I guess this is the draw for many who move to the Sunshine State, but for all the glory of subtropical paradise - I've never really felt at home here.

But twice a year, late in Spring and Fall, I experience an echo of what life was like when I lived north of Florida - in the South, ironically. It's most powerful in Autumn, a magical moment when something within me responds to subtle changes around me and I *know* that Fall has arrived. It always catches me by surprise even though I look forward to it every year. I can't explain it, but there is a miniscule shift in the temperature and humidity, a breeze and an unmistakeable smell in the air that makes me sigh, lifts my spirits and puts a spring in my step, a smile on my face. Suddenly everything clicks into place, and the world around me is finally in sync. No longer do the seasonal decorations in the stores seem out of place. Suddenly even though we're not all wearing sweaters and sipping cocoa here it doesn't seem odd that others in the country are.

I look forward to this moment eagerly. It just feels good. It also stirs up the wanderlust deep within me. It grows stronger every year, this yearning to return to familiar surroundings where not all colorful fall leaves are silk, and where Christmas decorations are less likely to hang from palm trees. Where the Sun and long hot days of Summer are treasured for their brevity rather than grumbled about for their unrelenting, tortuous humidity. Where the first brave flower to poke up it's colorful head is greeted with delight while the chill of winter not yet past fails to beat it down. When this moment comes I am happy but wistful.

It finally happened a few days ago, while I sat on a bench outside of work taking a break from the madness that is retail. A golden, serene, blissful moment in time that changed me. Even my co-workers noticed, smiling as I re-entered the store whistling. So what if we're already taking down the fall decorations and splattering the store with red and green and glitter. Who cares if Santa Claus and snowmen grin luridly at me from every other shelf weeks before Thanksgiving. Today the windows of my house are open, a breeze is blowing, and the rustle of still-green leaves clinging tenaciously to the trees in my yard fills the air. Autumn in Florida - such as it is - has arrived.