On Sunday afternoon, I (with Sadie in my arms) zipped along behind Chris and Madeline, across the buzzing streets on Saigon, reveling in the cool autumn breeze that was blowing my hair in my face. We'd just come from the "Welcome Back" picnic at Madeline's school, where we sipped hot chocolate in our hoodies and watched the kids run around on the lawn with all of the fallen yellow red leaves, and were on our way to check out an art gallery and find a place to get something nice to drink.
Oops! That was just my fantasy! I am so in the wrong climate zone.
I get a little wistful for autumn at this time of the year; it's my favourite season of the four that I grew up with. This is the fourth autumn that we've missed out on, and I never fail to grumble a bit about how I'm still wearing my summer tees and shorts and sandals; a one-season wardrobe is economical, but a little dull.
Around this time of year, in our compound in Thailand, at least, I'd look out the window of our apartment and wish that the leaves on the coconut trees would turn shades of golden, but instead they were the same lush green that they were every other day of the year. I'm pretty certain that it's the same deal here in Saigon. In a few weeks, my friends will doubtlessly start uploading photos to Facebook of their kids in pumpkin patches or piles of fallen leaves, probably wearing sweaters, and I might feel a little sad that I don't have a similar photo of Sadie propped on top of an overgrown jack o' lantern, and won't have one for the forseeable future. I miss the changing of the seasons, and the fall most of all.
On Sunday, the picnic was seriously sweltering, even though the school provided a good amount of shade. I was my typical sweaty self, with my hair soaked through, wrestling my sticky toddler into my arms to cross the chaotic streets of downtown Saigon. I wonder if I appear to the people on the street as the hot mess that I feel that I usually am here?