Aubrie Edmond, Contributing Writer

My favorite time of year is when the temperature drops below 65. The sky is dark and pensive, the breeze whistles and bends as it cuts through the trees. For the past few years, I’ve spent this time of year alone, watching slush become snow and hands become gloved. This time around, I’m living at home. It doesn’t get as cold here, the weather is more unpredictable and I never know what to wear. It’s not cold enough for coats and scarves, but it’s not warm enough for t-shirts and shorts. It’s a weird trade-off, leaving behind the feeling of the season for family and friends, adjusting to life at home as an adult. We recently got a puppy, after my parents claimed they would never do that again. It’s been really different having a dog in the house again. It feels like home in a different way, warm and loud and exciting.

It’s starting to feel like the holidays in a familiar way. The way the air smells filtering in through my window, the sunset at 6:00 pm, the infamous sweater and jeans combo. And then there’s my family. It’s been so long since I’ve spent this much time with them. Between school and work and friends and every other thing that comes with getting older, I’ve been building my own life and identity away from my parents. Sometimes it feels like I’m regressing, slipping back a few years in time and morphing into the person I used to be. I’m less sure of myself, less sure of what I want and who I want to be. It feels like starting from scratch, going back to the drawing board and wiping the slate clean. At least I’m not alone anymore, and I don’t have to figure it all out by myself. I thought it would be hard to be home for the holidays, I’ve been looking at it as a step backward instead of a reset. I’ve come to appreciate this life I’ve made for myself, and I’m excited for my favorite time of year to roll around again.