Chi tace acconsente.

I stood outside last night, long after the girls had gone to bed, standing in my doorway listening to the wind chasing the leaves, shaking them from their branches, scattering them down and across the road. Stood there looking for a moon I couldn't see and stars I couldn't place in a darkened night sky, the smell of fall thick on the air like a blanket wrapped snug around my shoulders.

October has always been the season for goodbyes. A time of change that announces itself in a myriad of colors across the valley in which I live before giving itself over to a winter it cannot prevent nor turn away. It is and has always been a rite of passage, a transition of one life into another and somewhere between the beginning and the end there is a story always taking place, the ones we tell and the ones we keep hidden on every page.