It was late September and the transformation from summer to fall was already obvious and beautiful. The leaves drifted off the lonely branches and landed on the hard ground. A flock of grey and white geese swooped across the cloudless, joyful skies. It was early in the morning, but already my friends and I were excited as we gathered under the big, brown tree on the front lawn of our old, cream colored school. The blocky walls of the school surrounded the lawn like a mother’s arms around her child. A leaf fell to the ground and we giggled as we ran around the tree, hoping to catch a leaf; the one we called the first leaf of fall. We danced with the leaves, desperately trying to catch one with our cold fingers. I leaped forward in the air, extended my arm as far as I could, and screamed with joy as I clutched the first falling green leaf. Just as I landed, the bell rang and we raced to our classes. A crisp breeze carried the fallen leaves and there was a whirlwind of red, yellow and orange spinning through the air. Briefly, just for a moment, the world looked like a magical place.