The air shifts. You feel it. Not cold yet. Not hot. Just a change. The sun sits lower, a golden light. It’s not autumn. Not yet. But the feeling is there. 🍁
You think of leaves. Red. Gold. Brown. They are coming. The wind will bite soon. But not today. Today is the quiet before.
Halloween waits. 👻 The pumpkins aren’t carved. 🎃 No costumes chosen. But the thought is a whisper. A ghost of a smile. Sweet things. 🍬 They are coming.
Thanksgiving. Far off. The turkey. 🦃 The warm smell of spices. 🥧 It’s a memory, and a promise. Full plates. Full hearts. Not now. But soon.
And Christmas. A shimmer in the distance. Lights. ✨ Soft snow. ❄️ Gifts. 🎁 The bells aren’t ringing. Not yet. But you hear them. Faintly.
The new year. A clean slate. A quiet hope. No plans made. No resolutions broken. Only the wide-open space of what could be.
is the “almost.” The time between. Not one thing. Not another. Just the anticipation. Cold. Warmth. It is a good time. A time of waiting. A time of knowing. Things are coming. Good things.




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