Sunday, September 19.

What a beautifully miserable day. It’s September 19 and it’s raining. As in proper raining. The kind that you can see falling, can watch making ripples in the puddles, and can feel through the dampness of your clothes. But most importantly, the kind that makes it worth carrying around your umbrella all day.

Despite the misery of the weather, today is actually a beautiful day because I am reminded of home.

Before I got into those details, though, I have to tell you a bit about me. You probably already know that I wear glasses (and have since I was eight years old) but you might not know (although, you should, and beware) that I am quite clumsy.  The clumsiest, in fact. At any given time I have three or more unexplainable scars or bruises. It’s because of these two things that I have developed a habit of always looking down when I walk. One, because the moment I stop looking down is the moment I trip over a loose paving stone or fall off the curb and take off half my knee. And two is, and you’ll understand this if you’ve ever worn glasses, in the rain you have to look down or you’ll get water droplets all over your lenses rendering them as useless as if you weren’t wearing them in the first place.  Well, today, I was doing just that. Despite the fact that I had my umbrella to protect my glasses; old habits die hard!

While walking to work, and watching the ground, I was reminded of Canada.

I don’t feel like I’m the kind of person who gets homesick. Maybe because I know I’m going back eventually, or because I can potentially talk or even see anyone from home in an instant over the internet so home doesn’t feel that out of reach. But, then again, if something as simple as rained on leaves on the ground makes me think of home and miss it, than perhaps I am afflicted.

Watching the rain splash on the ground reminded me of early October in Canada, walking home from school as a kid. The sky is gray and dark but it still feels like daytime. Being outside in your wearing boots and mittens, you know winter is coming soon but you’re desperately trying to hold onto that summer feeling of being out late, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and shorts.

In England the leaves don’t really change colour on trees; they just fall off and then some turn brown on the ground. But for those that have fallen, the smell of autumn is unmistakable. The smell of leaves mixed with the rain sends me back to memories of walking along the curb and through the gutter kicking up piles of leaves that have gathered there.

God, I love autumn. Spring is supposed to be the season of rebirth and renewal but for my whole life autumn has been that season for me. The bringer of change. Every September brought with it a new school year, a new grade, new friends, new learning. Then in university new jobs, new responsibilities. And finally, last year, moving to a whole new country. This September, right now, is the first time nothing is changing for me. And I guess that’s okay. This year I am just excited to be doing all my autumn stuff in England, like pumpkin carving and introducing my new friends to things like Thanksgiving dinner.

So, on what could very well be described as a miserably rainy day I am reminded of home. And instead of being sad and homesick I am happy to have such a wonderful place to think about and call home. I am excited to go back there in time for next year’s puddle walking and leaf kicking season.