Photo by Lucas George Wendt on Unsplash
Autumn always courted me pretty hard each year. He wooed me with luscious aromas, warm drinks, and roaring fires. He enticed me with beautiful art in the colorful display of foliage turning into a brilliant spectrum of fiery flames. Autumn would soothe me with his sweet sounds: peace and stillness—yes, they have a sound. The sound of utter silence is a potion better than any concoction a distillery can make.
Suitors
The only one who did it better than Autumn was Old Man Winter, when he would shower me with pillowy, white confection that insulated the planet’s humming and groaning each year. They both understood my love of peace and quiet.
Winter was indeed a cunning suitor and adversary, but Autumn remained my favorite date. Winter liked to isolate me in my cave. Even so, Autumn, in all his finery, was edged out by a transient October.
October was just passing through, caught between Summer's stifling heat and the bitterness of the old man, Winter. He reminded me of what was to come. Summer was wonderful, don’t get me wrong, but she was always wanting to do things. All she wanted was to play, to travel, to stay busy. It was exhausting.
Apparently, mild and warm temperatures prompted a push to get as much done as possible, and who needed to be pushed harder instead of encouraged to relax? She was never my favorite.
Oh, Summer was always loads of fun, and at first the novelty of more freedom was exciting, but after her daily list of let’s do this or that, I was done with her and completely over-tired.
Courting
October was gentle: warm with just the right chill during the best times of day, especially in the evening. He whispered instead of shouting like Summer did. He gave me the perfect mix of laughter, joviality, and quiet serenity. He didn’t keep me in and to himself, like winter. Neither did he continually drag me out to keep busy outdoors.
He was and is a breath of fresh air. Sure, he could be a bit dank and morose at times, but he was equally inviting and a salve against life’s cacophony of licks and bruises. But those reasons are not why I adore him. No.
He gave me something none of the others did or could have. Not the festivities that came with Summer and her unrelenting demands, nor the calm stillness and coziness that came with Winter’s sequestration. Not even Spring and her showers of flowers, the sweetly intoxicating scents in the air, or the pleasant serenade of birdsong.
Her arrival after being cooped up with Winter was wonderful; don’t believe I didn’t enjoy her, because I did. She was a crisp breath of fresh air, not unlike Autumn, though in a different way. Spring was fresh, whereas Autumn was clammy.
She was verdancy personified. Spring was, and still is, an explosion of the lighter colors of the spectrum, while Summer was the maturation of those colors into deeper, richer tones. She was young, unrefined, and impetuous, unlike Summer, who was older and more serious about her work.
Spring was moody, too: something Summer was not. In her never-ending happiness, Summer was less prone to mood swings than Spring. Spring could be all sunshine and daisies, only to turn dark and dangerous, like Jekyll and Hyde. When she did, oh brother: you didn’t want to be around her. The fallout from her tantrums left a wake that could take months to recover from. I loved her and hated her at the same time.
Perfection
October was none of these things. He was charming, as I said. He was neither hot nor cold. He was mature, but not falling apart in weathered, olfactory age like Winter. October was a lover. He gave me the love I had always wanted and could never quite reach. He filled my arms with joy.
October gave me years and years of happiness, and still does. He fathered my son Elijah. No one ever gave me a more beautiful gift than he did. As soon as I was introduced to him, he lavished me with a love that has lasted and will last until my last day: maybe beyond.
Since that morning at the beginning of our acquaintance, he showered me with the love of the child I had longed for. October was never the same to me again. He trampled the others underfoot and took hold of my love, eternally. He changed my life. No gratitude is vast enough to thank him for that treasure.
Every time October came around, it was a celebration of another year of the best kind of love. He brought memories and hopes for the future. He became my favorite and held that title for years. He still does, twenty-one years later. I will never favor another.
Choices
The irony was that he was Autumn’s very best friend, and the two were always peas in a pod. Wherever one went, the other followed. They both allowed me to be free and comfortable in my own part of this world. They both let me let my hair down. They fed me each year and never minded that I would put on a couple of extra pounds. No, they embraced me in my imperfections and made my time with them inviting.
Sometimes I think I love them both, but in reality, October surged ahead because of the gift he gave me. Autumn wasn’t jealous, though, and accepted that October would always be second in my heart. The two remained close friends; even today, you wouldn’t find one without the other tagging along. So I got the best of both of them. They will forever be my two favorite loves.
(Published by Age of Empathy on Medium, 2026)
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