I remember grief nesting in the space behind my rib age at the end of summer when I was kid. On the night before school, I would take a bath. I'd would always take extra long with this particular bath time. I'd try my best to savor the moment by never leaving before my finger tips looked like little raisins. When the bath was over I would solemnly watch the water level shrink. It always made me sad. When my mom asked me why I told her it was because it was like watching the last bit of summer go down the drain. She laughed and I put my head down. I smiled weakly and said "That's a silly thing to say huh? That makes me weird." And I'll never forget the way she locked eyes with me and smiled and said "No, Megan. That makes you a poet." _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ There is something about the Fall season that makes me just want to slow down and savor moments. Time becomes that bath I don't want to leave until my finger tips look like little raisins. And as I solemnly watch one of the most impacting seasons of my life slowly go down the drain, I feel so much peace. I have no doubt that I am right where I am supposed to be. This moment is sacred. And I know I will go forth out of this season in a better state then when I first came in. I will live out my truth. I will rub these life changing lessons over my being like oil. I will keep my heart soft and teachable. I am sentimental, but I am ready. It's time for that next level of learning. But I don't know. Maybe that's a silly thing to say. Maybe that makes me weird. Or maybe that just makes me a poet.