I hope you enjoy reading my words as much as I enjoy writing them. I can't promise that each piece will be the best, but i can promise that each will be unique. my goal is to inspire you, provoke deep thought, and give you a break. 

Fall's Fraternal Twins


This is fall -- the season where nostalgia and mourning wrap themselves in your thickest blanket and settle into your home. I've slowly come to realize that nostalgia is mourning's fraternal twin (or so it seems). They both reflect longing within our hearts for what once was, yet each carries different emotions in their respective suitcases.

Nostalgia always finds a way to recreate that feeling of eating your grandmother's fried apple pies long after she's gone. It runs with you barefoot, through an open field to remind you of time spent chasing autumn's wind on the mountain top. Nostalgia cups your ear with its warm hand and whispers, "Your memories are crisp and sweet, and you can create new ones that make your heart flicker, my friend." Then it smiles and pours a hot cup of cider. 

Then there is mourning. It's that deep longing for your old way of life that you loved and trusted. It sits inside of you and doesn't move. Your breath becomes shallow because if you breathe too deeply it might drown out the knock of your beloved past returning for one last bowl of spaghetti. You realize it's not coming back, and you are forced to make a new life and new memories that don't give you that same heart thump. You know it will be lovely and nostalgia will eventually meet you. Until then, you have to allow the heavier side of longing sit on your heart's bench by the fire for a while. 

The beautiful phenomenon about fall is that we can feel nostalgic and we can mourn, and both are like the fallen leaves our lives need in order to make the soil of our souls fertile again. Fall is a season that prepares our minds for winter's rest. I am thankful for all the feels that fall totes along with it because I know that they will keep me warm until it's time for that sweet, Southern summer sun to appear again. 

When Memory Becomes too Much

A Lone Bullfrog and Crickets