Today is yet another day in Afghanistan and I can feel fall setting in. The leaves and other local flora are turning anywhere from black to a fecal brown, some local residents have opted to don coats although it's still clearly quite warm out, and people are looking forward to the holiday season. I walked out of my house today and thought simply "it doesn't feel like October". The fall doesn't seem entirely distinguishable from the summer, the previous put aside.
My friends and family back home in Maine tell me all about how they can feel the cold setting in, how they're seeing the frost gather on leaves, how they're seeing the leaves change color. Upon hearing this I think to myself "I bet it all looks beautiful".
I think back fondly of home often and imagine the season taking hold, of houses decorated for halloween, of people looking forward to the holidays and thinking way too far in advance of delectable turkey dinners and a glowing tree covered in baubles. I think back to the way people act this time of year, putting on their coats and drinking hot chocolate once they're inside.
I can almost imagine how I'd be spending the season myself, eagerly looking forward to seeing the full harvest moon one night, taking my last walks through the woods before it gets both too cold and too snowy to. I can see myself raking leaves off of the lawn, a tedious task, but one I take surprising amounts of gratification from as I watch leaves become small piles of leaves, and small piles meld together to form one huge, absolutely monolithic pile of dead and drying foliage.
It's thoughts like these that help me maintain my drive and keep moving on, to finish the mission and come home already