fall.

Fall is gorgeous here in Washington. Fall in Texas is temperamental and drives me to look for tickets to places with color-changing leaves. This is the first time in years I have gotten to witness trees changing from green to yellow, hot pink, orange and purple. When I pick my son up from Kindergarten, I kick the piles of leaves and jump in them. I take pictures of trees. I am infatuated with autumn.

As I drove my kids to school this morning under the gray skies, through the rain, over the dead leaves, I thought of how much my mother would hate being in Washington right now. I can see that the gray is silver, the rain is glitter. I love watching the leaves whirl away from their stems in the wind. I don't mind the limited light, which is good as our days are just going to get shorter. I am hoping to arrange our Christmas travel to allow myself to be here on the shortest day of the year, which will be shorter here than in Texas. I love watching the Earth go into hibernation. My favorite fall days though are the ones with blue skies, when I can see the mountain 30 miles away, glittering white with snow. The sun is so bright it hurts, making 50 degrees feel like 70. The hot pink leaves against the bright blue sky look surreal, like everything you see has already been sharpened and filtered on Instagram.

November is also nice for me because of Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving wasn't very important in my family growing up, but I love holidays. I love to cook and I love to plan. Thanksgiving, more than any other holiday, requires planning. What time does the turkey go in the oven? What else cooks at the same temperature as the green bean casserole? How much time does there need to be between dinner and dessert? Do I have enough plates, silverware, chairs? I have ethical qualms about Thanksgiving and Native Americans and I like the fourth Thursday in November anyway.

November also includes Veteran's Day and November 14, the day Ken died. So, while I watch the Earth give up the last of its harvest and I admire the leaves and their myriad of colors, I also acknowledge the sacrifices made by people I have known. Much like the gunmetal skies do not ruin fall for me, my grief for what my husband has lost does not ruin November for me. Veterans Day is somber for us, especially as three days later is the anniversary of Ken's death and I can never think of one without the other. Veterans Day is also for everyone who has served. We jokingly call it Karl's Holiday and last year I referred to it as "pinch a veteran day," which is now any day we are feeling especially silly.

Unfortunately, just as my mother would be unable to see the glitter because of all the darkness, Karl is unable to be thankful because of all the death. Every year, the first two weeks of November are trying for me. Karl is snappier than usual, thoughtless in his comments and his reactions. This is the time of year, more than ever, that I need to referee between him and the kids. I start staying up until one in the morning to have a little peace. The holidays are not hard for Karl, Christmas is fine, although he grumbles about consumerism. The fortnight between Dia de los Muertos and the day after Ken died are Karl's shortest days. They are the days when there is more dark than light. I know that the days will gradually get longer again and there will be more light. We just have to wait for it.