By Laura Spiegel

Dear Fall,

We’ve always had a bit of a rocky relationship, haven’t we?  One day, we’re the best of friends, giggling over pumpkin spice lattes and cozying up to the fire.  The next, we are mortal enemies who battle over the November gray and impending coughs.

We’ve not always been this way.  Years ago, you, Fall, were one of the most wonderous times of the year for me.  I loved jumping in your damp leaf piles and toasting s’mores.  As I grew older, I began to associate you with the return to school and friends old and new.  The last days of October have always been special, with sugary Halloween treats and years later, a wedding.  So yes, I did love you once.

And then, my young daughter was diagnosed with cystic fibrosis, and my relationship with you, Fall, changed overnight.  Like those pictures that when looked at one way show a pretty girl and when looked at another way show a haggard woman.  At first glance, they are the same, but upon closer look, they are altogether different.

After CF entered our lives, your beauty eluded me.  Your memories became just that.  Memories.  As summer slipped away and you held out your blustery hand, my nerves tightened like a string a musician has tuned one turn too much.  Summer brought me freedom.  You, Fall, brought a deep and bitter sigh.  Gone were your fanciful gifts and scents and sounds.  Now I just heard wet coughs to be avoided at every turn and saw hands rubbed raw from washing. 

Birthday parties and holiday get-togethers once anticipated were now strategically maneuvered to avoid anyone who could get my daughter sick.  For this, I hated you, Fall.  You robbed me of my freedom and turned me into someone I did not like.  Someone not fearless but fearful, who couldn’t control you no matter how I tried.  School days were missed.  Gallons of antibiotics were drunk.  My daughter and son didn’t notice the difference (or at least, so I hoped).  But I did, and it made me sad. 

Until…

I realized that while I couldn’t control the world around me, I could control my attitude.  I could choose to be hopeful and playful and to appreciate the small moments this Fall rather than waiting for the big ones to hit. 

To help with this, my daughter’s doctor helped me to build a cold-and-flu season plan that is balanced and manageable.  She started by popping the proverbial bubble that I’m sometimes tempted to put around my daughter and reminded me that school, parties, and everything in between should be enjoyed as much as possible this Fall. 

If the flu is going around school, it’s okay to skip a few days and wash hands like a boss.  If someone visiting our home is sick, it’s okay to ask for a rain check.  But it is not okay to miss out on Fall’s joy by avoiding activities or mentally counting down to the next round of Bactrim. 

This year, we are to embrace you, Fall, with a balance of tempered caution and wild-hearted enthusiasm. 

And so, I have again purchased your scented soy candles.  I have traipsed through your pumpkin patches and hung your ghoulish décor.  And when my daughter saw a red maple yesterday and coined it “the most beautiful thing ever,” I realized that I was actually ready to give you back my heart.  Because if my little one can stop and admire you without any prompting or pretense, then so can I. 

What do you say, Fall?  Should we make another go of it?

P.S. It would be great if you wouldn’t run hot and cold this year.  You know I hate your mood swings. 

P.P.S.  Please tell your wingman Winter to beat it by April.  Like all loves, it’s wise not to overstay one’s welcome.