#chasing fall

You both packed up the truck with barely a plan in place... just winging it... or so you had thought.  You’re at a rest area near the New York border when he pulls a little notebook from the pocket of his well-worn denim shirt and thumbs through the pages.

“Baby?  What’s that you got there?” you ask, leaning over to try and take a peek.

“Nothing.”  He grins, slapping it shut and tucking it back into his pocket.  You know for a fact that he’s incapable of not having a plan of some sort before setting off to parts unknown.  It can be a real pain in the backside sometimes, but how can you get mad at those puppy-dog eyes?

“Okay,” you chuckle, holding your hands in mock surrender, “keep your secrets.”

You swap seats... you sliding into the driver’s seat, and Frankie having to relinquish control because now he’s in your territory.  He can practically feel your energy shift, coming off you like electricity.  You keep to the highway that winds along the hillside for a while before exiting in favor of back roads on the valley floor.

He’s in complete awe at the sight that unfolds.  The sun blazes high in the sky making the hills look like they are on fire.  Miles of red, orange, and yellow stretch out before his eyes.  He doesn’t know where to look anymore.  You smile at the child-like wonder on his face.  He rolls the window down for a more unhindered view, but promptly rolls it back up when he realizes that sun doesn’t always mean warmth.  You can’t help but laugh.

“Damn!!  It’s freezing out there!” he exclaims, rubbing his arms vigorously.

“Please...” You roll your eyes.  “This is still tee-shirt weather... at worst, flannel shirt.  I used to wear flip-flops until the first snowfall.”

“That’s insane.”

“Says you.  You grew up where there’s only two seasons... Swamp Ass and Hurricane.”

He lets out a barking laugh, but he knows you're right about that one.  He takes out his mysterious notebook and starts flipping through it again.  You reach over and snatch it out of his hand.

“Hey!”

“You little shit!!” You glance at it a few moments before handing it back to him.  “You have a list!!  I should’ve known!”

“Soooo...” He straightens up in his seat and gives you a pouting look that makes you soften.

“Baby, I’m only picking.  Tell me what’s first on your list.”

“There’s this cider mill that’s in...”

“Got it.”

You don’t even need him to finish the sentence because you’re already making a turn onto another road, knowing exactly where it is he’s wanting to go.  The truck bounces along the uneven roads that wind back and forth through the colorful trees.  When you pull into the parking lot, it’s crowded.  It always is on a Saturday.  You step inside and it’s standing room only.  You grab his hand and cut through the mass of people to get to the demonstration area.

“I have a feeling this is what you wanted to see?”  You look up at him, snaking your arm around his waist.  He nods, pulling you closer.  He watches in excitement as trays of apples are loaded into a press to be squeezed into fresh apple cider.  You can see his eyes dissecting every gear and bolt of the machine because... well... it’s Frankie.

An hour later, you’re loading two gallons of apple cider, an apple pie, a bag of apples, and a dozen donuts fresh from the fryer into the truck.  He pulls the notebook out and checks off the cider mill.

“What’s next?”

“Pumpkin picking.”

“I know just the place.”

And you do, too.  You drive through a small city and an even smaller town that despite its population is still referred to as a ‘village’.  The village is picturesque, complete with its historic downtown and village green surrounded by churches and a school.

The farm you’re looking for is not far... right there on the main road.  The field of pumpkins spans all the way up the hill behind a small family-owned store that Frankie is determined to visit afterwards.  You pull on a pair of rain boots and a chunky sweater, advising him to at least put a hoodie on.  You don’t want your sweet Frankie-baby to freeze to death.

Two hours... two... hours... up and down the muddy hill in search of the ultimate pumpkin.  You can’t say that you’re surprised by this perfect specimen of vegetation.  And, of course, it’s heavy as hell.  He tromps behind you down the hill, carrying it proudly like he’s won first prize at the school science fair.  He grins when they put it on the scale, and you laugh because you’d think they were weighing his first-born child.

The store yields more food... some aged cheddar cheese and some halfmoon cookies.  The pumpkin is too chonky for the back seat and is relegated to the back of the truck.

“Where to now, Brown Eyes?”  You smooch him on his little bald beard patch.

“Just a casual walk with the love of my life.”

“How do I even say ‘no’ to that?”

And you don’t.  You take him to a nearby park... one that you frequented with your parents as a child.  It’s a pretty little park that’s perched on a lakeside.  After having a small ‘lunch’ of apple cider, donuts, and cheese on the tailgate, you drag him off to a path that leads into the forested part of the park.

It’s so peaceful... the only sound is the crunching of leaves beneath your boots, and it smells like Fall should... a slight sweetness.  Frankie stops to take a minute and breathe it in, closing his eyes.  You take advantage of this moment to stand on your toes and press your lips to his.  He wraps his arms around you and lifts you from the ground, deepening the kiss.

Leaves fall like snowflakes as you stand in his warm embrace, nuzzling your face against the softness of his hoodie.  He tilts your face up for another kiss.

“Does Fall meet your expectations?” you mumble against his lips.

“Mmmhm.”

“What’s next on your list?”