Homesick: who hasn’t felt it?
Once, Autumn meant friction. Snits and pouts. Epic school-shopping wars: my taste vs Mom’s.
“Teal is your color, Laurie. It brings out your eyes.”
Teal: as in, our front door, sofa pillows, and afghan. Napkins. Glassware. Every single kitchen appliance.
Back then, Autumn also meant trips to The City: milkshakes poured from stainless steel cups; orange fruit jelly slices, mid-afternoon; a new hairstyle for school.
Autumn meant sleek binders and cellophaned No. 2 pencils. Glossy, spiral-bound possibility.
And yes, a teal jumper or sweater plus knee socks came home with us in department store bags. Autumn meant surrender.
Autumn meant having Mom to myself.