"If I could write out my own dream, for the next time that I sleep.."

Summer is coming to an end; I can finally feel it. Fall is around the corner and I'm waiting for it as patiently as I can. Fall is, after all, my favorite season.

I've committed to stay here in New Orleans for another year and that, coupled with the change of season, makes me a little restless to travel. The fall in particular always finds me wanting to go back to where I came from. I want to see the leaves explode in brilliant colors, watch them rain from the trees and walk over them, feel them crunch beneath my feet.

I want to go back to the Paint Creek Cider Mill and look at the cigar-store Indian like statue of chief Pontiac as I eat fresh, warm donuts and drink cider. I want to watch the wheel of the mill turn with fall of the water.

I want to see the family that I've been removed from for too long and make up for lost time. I want to see the friends that I've grown apart from in both lifestyle and geography. I want to drive past the places where we all used to live and look at them, appreciate them, in a way that is entirely different after all the things that I've seen, all the things I've done.

I'll never live in Michigan again, this I know. I don't visit it often enough, I'm sure of that too. I do however miss it from time to time, but even more so, I miss the people that I've left behind there.

The summer comes to an end here in the south and I know that fall has already begun in the north. I'll always be a wanderer, leaving little pieces of my heart in every place I've ever called home, giving big pieces of it to the people that I've loved along the way.