alyssum

I realized the other morning, as I walked by a particularly fragrant patch of the summer's last alyssum, that my annual autumn sadness seems to have gone astray. The alyssum was so sweet, white tufts awash in the morning light, that I couldn't help but smile as I traipsed on towards a job I love, in a town I love, where the sky is vast and beautiful and constantly changing.

I realized in that moment that I have not cried in months.