I wait nine excruciating months every year for a breeze to carry an intoxicating chill and a euphoric scent of cinnamon.
Watching the leaves slowly morph into a rainbow of earthy colors and hearing them crunch beneath my feet makes midterm season tolerable.
My favorite memories have always centered around the season.
My mother always made Halloween special for me. Walking into the costume stores was the highlight of October weekends in my childhood.
I was terrified of those animatronics that all stores put at their entrance. I don’t know who decided that putting a seven-foot clown in the direct path of the children’s section was a good idea, but luckily it didn’t ruin the season for me.
Just like any other young girl that was raised on Disney, I was determined to dress as a princess every single year. My saint of a mother consistently shelled out the $60 for a poorly made costume, making each Halloween more magical than the last.
I remember trick-or-treating around the richest neighborhood I had ever seen, with a few family friends. Instead of the disappointing fun-sized candy, these homeowners were handing out bags of kettle corn, cups of hot chocolate, and the one in a million find: king-sized candy bars. I smile every time I drive by that neighborhood, even though I’ll never afford a house there, because of that one fall night.
Fall truly took my heart hostage in my late-teen to young-adult years.
I finally am able to do couples costumes, which I’ve envied for years, as I now have a partner willing to be my Ken doll and be dressed by me for Halloween. I have a list that could be turned into a novel of costume ideas for the two of us, some of which we have already executed perfectly.
I’m a stereotypical Instagrammer, so as soon as that autumn chill hits pumpkin patches, cinnamon rolls, lattes and sweaters dance around through my feed. I adore fall outfits and finally pulling out my favorite long-sleeve shirts without the fear of leaving sweat stains on them.
Apple picking, jumping in leaf piles, taking spooky-themed photos; send me just a text and I’m there. My cousin has been bombarded with Instagram reels in her DMs for the past three weeks of fun-fall activities that we’ll probably never do. But it’s the thought that counts, right?
The scents are what truly make me feel as though I’m locked in a loving embrace during the season.
Walking into my aunt’s house and being greeted with the smell of ponche is a dreamy reality every time that breeze hits.
Cinnamon brooms and seasonally appropriate candles are strewn across my room. I may smell like a mixture of a Bath and Body Works and a Michaels craft store for the next two months but I couldn’t be happier. You can drown in my apple turnover-scented perfume for all I care.
The superficial aesthetic of the season is only the surface level of my adoration though.
Dia de los Muertos is incredibly important to me and my culture. Being a Mexican American woman, I claw at and clutch onto any connection I have to my roots.
Dia de los Muertos is a holiday with origins that predates Hispanic colonization and is celebrated on Nov. 1 and Nov. 2, it is believed in Hispanic culture that the spirits of the dead return to the world of the living to spend time with their family members according to an article from The Mexican Museum.
The holiday allows me to celebrate and honor my ancestors, family members I never got to meet. Dia de los Muertos allows me to connect to my paternal grandmother. I’m named after this woman despite never getting the chance to speak to her, but my rituals and practices during this celebration gives me a sense of comfort and belonging with her.
Dia de los Muertos has given me something I lacked for most of my life, a sense of loving connection to my culture. I fall in love with the season every single time I recall that fall cradles this special connection and memory in its lovingly cold arms.
Walking into my local Trader Joe’s and seeing cempasuchil proudly blooming with vibrant oranges melts my heart.
Some of my closest friends and family members were born in this sacred season. My cousin, who has been my light and guide in discovering my own culture, was born in November. My aunt, who has been my tutor in Spanish and cultural dishes, was born in October. A childhood friend that stuck by me through the darkest period of my life was born in the same month.
I celebrate some of the people I love and who love me most in this season, how could I not adore it?
Wrapping their gifts in festive autumn-themed paper gives me an unreasonable amount of joy both for the aesthetic and the fact that I get to celebrate my favorite people in my favorite time of year.
While I no longer celebrate Thanksgiving, I still have fond memories of it that tie me back to fall. My mother and I never enjoyed the pre-assigned food for this holiday, so one year, we decided to change it.
Instead of dry turkey and grainy mashed potatoes, we made our favorite foods. Pesto pasta, garlic bread, fruits and vegetables lined our table. It was always just the two of us on Thanksgiving, but I never complained.
I cherish that annual cold fall night and the memories of my mom and I dancing in the kitchen as we cook. We turned the holiday that neither of us ever liked into our own tradition.
I remember curling up on the couch with my mom after our faux Thanksgiving meal with ice cream and warm apple pie to watch whatever show she was obsessed with at the time. I’m excited to return to this little tradition as soon as I’m able to tear myself away from campus.
Of course, I love the simple things that fall brings too.
Poorly carved pumpkins and horror movies that make me hide beneath blankets instead of watching them are my favorite seasonal activities.
Spooky date nights are on the top of my to-do list for autumn. I’m forcing my wonderful long-distance boyfriend to sit through a zoom call with me while I bake those adorable little Halloween cookies and he's going to like it. I’ve already planned our couples costume, little does he know he still has to wear it despite being thousands of miles away.
Despite my vehement hatred for pumpkin spice, which is a terrible flavor and should be discontinued, I will always hold this spooky season close to my heart.
