Fall - by Tamar

This is a winter day, even though it's only October first on the calendar. Here I stand at the bus stop, wishing my fingerless gloves had fingers, and wondering where the hot flashes are when you really need them. The wind blows at my umbrella, the raindrops reroute themselves so they take a ballroom dip and sneak under it to kick me in the face, and I find myself once again complaining about the weather.
Yes, leaves are falling. Rain is falling. It's Fall. My favourite season, actually, although it's hard to appreciate the rich warm colours dressing the trees, when I'm shivering, hunkering, dancing almost, when my goose bumps have goose bumps and my warm jacket isn't quite warm enough.
And I remember this past summer, when the sun blazed its way through clear skies and it was hot enough to make your knuckles sweat, when a few hours walking around Stanley Park resulted in sunburned skin peeling from my shoulders like old paint from an abandoned boat, and I swore and complained and longed for cooler days.
Guess my prayers were answered. Now if only the lottery ones were next.