Walking through the gentle autumn day, so many sensations float past me. I'm infused with a sense of happiness for the moment. As I lift my daughter to my shoulders, it hits me again that I am the grownup. My time of the heady joy of someone sweeping you along, higher than the world on their shoulders is long past. Instead of regretting that it didn't happen often enough, I smiled at the thought of carrying my children high so they could reach for the clouds.

As I turn the corner, the acrid sent of burning leaves fills my nostrils. I'm reminded of an assignment from my 9th grade English teacher, Mrs. Evans. One of the options was to describe newly mown grass. I chose the simpler task of describing the state I had lived in the longest until then, California. But now, I understand. I'm still not sure how I would describe freshly mown grass, but I would describe the smouldering smell of the leaves as chances gone. The smell of burning leaves still swirling through my senses, another familiar smell pushed its way in. The smell of fresh laundry, hot in the dryer. The smell of promise and futures. Preparing for the days ahead with crisp clothes, comforting to all of your senses.

The sharp smell of the leaves, while not unpleasant, served its purpose. It made me appreciate the clean smell of laundry all the more. The two smells swirled about for awhile, then disappeared. The memories stay for much longer though.