tinawritesstuff
Autumn.
--Original caption story--
Autumn was such a pretty name – the name of an artist. Susan wished she had been named Autumn. It was her favorite season after all. Her car hugged the curves of the mountain road as she drove to town for eggs and tooth floss. Susan was such a vanilla name, she mused, like unsaturated cloud cover and pencil sketches forgotten in a drawer. Autumn was full of possibilities, of courage to fail, and of letting go to find something new. A scenic overlook opened behind a sharp turn and Susan slammed the breaks. She got out of her car and took in the view. The Aspens and Red Maples glowed with a weight of glory. Life was so much fuller when it wasn’t stuck behind glass. You will never make it as an artist. Her mother’s words clung to the air like car exhaust. The puff of wind that made the leaves quiver dared her to disbelieve it. “Autumn.” The word felt good in her mouth. Her mind sparked with the colors of life. Below, rolling in layers into the valley, burnt oranges and rich browns and winsome yellows beckoned to come play. It was time to return to the canvas, and this time she would bring more than pencils. Autumn turned and climbed back into the car.
-- Thank you for reading! --
My Instagram: @_tinaschroeder_
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Autumn.
--Original caption story--
Autumn was such a pretty name – the name of an artist. Susan wished she had been named Autumn. It was her favorite season after all. Her car hugged the curves of the mountain road as she drove to town for eggs and tooth floss. Susan was such a vanilla name, she mused, like unsaturated cloud cover and pencil sketches forgotten in a drawer. Autumn was full of possibilities, of courage to fail, and of letting go to find something new. A scenic overlook opened behind a sharp turn and Susan slammed the breaks. She got out of her car and took in the view. The Aspens and Red Maples glowed with a weight of glory. Life was so much fuller when it wasn’t stuck behind glass. You will never make it as an artist. Her mother’s words clung to the air like car exhaust. The puff of wind that made the leaves quiver dared her to disbelieve it. “Autumn.” The word felt good in her mouth. Her mind sparked with the colors of life. Below, rolling in layers into the valley, burnt oranges and rich browns and winsome yellows beckoned to come play. It was time to return to the canvas, and this time she would bring more than pencils. Autumn turned and climbed back into the car.
-- Thank you for reading! --
My Instagram: @_tinaschroeder_
Support me on Ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/tinaschroeder