The Fall Festivals have Finally Arrived

I was born and raised in Virginia. I always envied those who lived in large cities. The trees are too tall and are huddled in large quantities. During the Spring, my allergies from them turn breathing into a laborious chore. The roads are dark and are especially bad when I used to slowly drive through the old suburban neighborhood I lived in. With each house I passed, lights from the busy intersection would get swallowed up by the towering trees until it was just me on the lonely and dark street. It wasn’t until I recently visited my cousin in LA, that my perspective had shifted. “I miss Virginia,” she’d say. Of course, having been there my whole life, I didn’t see anything special and was confused. She said she missed the tall trees I loathed since downtown LA barely had any, just grey buildings. “What else do you miss?” I asked. She mentioned the annual fall festivals. I agreed. The fall festivals were one of the things I held to my heart dearly. I have memories of going to them since Kindergarten and falling down the piles of haystacks. I remember constantly going to them as field trips and one year, I just stopped. When I was in high school, I rarely went. If I remember correctly, I think I only went once since I no longer found them entertaining. This routine changed after I started college again and sought after my childhood memories. I went with my close friends an hour before the farm was closing for the day. Walking along the crunchy leaves and seeing the same haystacks that sat under a long metal slide, made me feel like I was in Kindergarten again.