School starts for me tomorrow. This is what happened to me last night.
A Taste of Coming Autumn
I gazed up at the stars, enamored by their greatness. How could one not be? There in my backyard, I could look up and be touched by ancient light, rays that had traveled on nothing for light-years, and finally, in that moment, had graced my face. They were so keen, those bright points of light in a mess of black. If only I hadn’t lived in the city, then they would have been unobstructed by human lights and the whole sky would have shone.
Turning on my heels, I tried to find the Big Dipper. There it was! I stopped abruptly and nearly fell over. I smiled at the familiar constellation. Now, where was Orion with his great belt? I couldn’t find him, for he was a winter constellation, and it was still summer.
I sighed. That fact brought me back to earth. Summer. Yes and no. The months had changed, and it was now September, the “in-between” month as I called it. I had only two days of summer break left. I sighed again.
This summer had not gone by “too fast” as all the others had. In fact, the timing felt just right. I didn’t dread returning to school. The thing was that this year would be my senior year. One more year at home, then I’d be gone. I was afraid of misusing it, of squandering what precious time I had left. How could I possibly make this one year into everything I wanted? I furrowed my brow in thought and question. The stars in the sky gave me no answer though. I looked down at my bare feet. The back porch light cast a long shadow of me on the grass, but my shadow gave me no answer either.
Unseen crickets and tree frogs filled the cool air with their calls. Only a week ago the night heat would have been unbearable, but September had brought with it a touch of autumn. Indeed, earlier that same day I had felt it in the breeze, that touch of chill, a foreshadowing of later when sweatshirts would be afternoon necessities.
I had been standing on the lowest front porch step watching my little sister bike up and down the sidewalk. The summer sunlight had been perfect, a full light that leapt into each crevice and shadow and filtered through the tree tops to dance on the lawn. A breeze had come and blown my hair back and had made the leaves rustle together. I had been struck by the closeness of these two things, of how a taste of fall could exist in such lush greenery. But look! There on the curb were half a dozen burnt orange maple leaves. The days of strawberries and lemonade were fading. Soon they would yield to corn, pumpkins, and wheat, crops that were harvested from rolling fields that stretched out left and right of Midwestern rural highways. And then, school would be in full swing, complete with hot apple cider and football.
The porch light shut off. I was in the dark with the stars. Taking one last glance up at Ursus Major, I headed inside. Summer would end, school would start, and I would live though it as I always had—taking in every moment.
and 
.
