It's okay. I understand.
You are all about suspense. And as seasons go, you have a flair for the dramatic. You understand the power of an entrance. You're fond of whispers. You know to leave when the applause is high. You leave the cold silences to winter. You are the Greta Garbo of seasons. And back in August, back when you tiptoed in, bringing the chilly mornings and the smell of woodsmoke, the urge to bake and sort tights by color, to buy number two pencils, and walk through the park, it was just a way of saying See you soon.
It's hot again. My garden is dying. I am sweaty. And I just want you to know. It's okay. I get it. The whole making an entrance thing.
So. Um. Please come back now.