There was something magical about going to a fall festival on a chilly October evening when you were a teenager. The air smelled of woodsmoke, fallen leaves, and fresh apple cider, while strings of glowing lights illuminated the midway and the Ferris wheel turned against the darkening sky. You’d show up with a few friends, wearing your favorite flannel or a denim jacket that wasn’t nearly warm enough, with a handful of crumpled dollars in your pocket and absolutely nowhere else you needed to be. Maybe you’d hold hands with someone you had a crush on, steal a kiss behind the pumpkin patch, or spend half the night wandering around pretending you weren’t freezing. There were hayrides, caramel apples, cheap carnival games, and the distant sound of laughter drifting through the trees. Nothing particularly extraordinary ever had to happen, but somehow those nights felt like everything. Just being young, a little reckless, and surrounded by the sights and sounds of autumn was enough to make an ordinary October evening feel like a memory you’d carry forever.
