Fall has always been my favorite season. It feels like a fresh start - a chance to begin a new chapter, to learn, grow, and reset. And I get that gift every single year. After moving to Las Vegas from Detroit, I quickly discovered how brutal summers can be. Triple-digit heat often soars past 115 degrees. Walks, gardening, even picnics are impossible, and locals scurry to finish errands before 8:00 a.m. to beat the intensity of the sun. I can remember winters in Detroit where locals hibernated and now, I'm experiencing the desert hibernation period during the hot summer months. Then fall arrives. The air turns crisp, monsoonal rains revive the desert, and even the foliage perks up. (Yes, there's foliage in the desert!) Even though autumn doesn't bring forth the same fall foliage as Michigan, there is a definite change in the season that becomes quite obvious to a desert resident. Growing up in Detroit, I always looked forward to September for the first day of school - new pencils, fresh clothes, familiar faces, and new teachers. After high school graduation, my love for the fall during my college days added a new layer. Sorority rushes, football games, and Homecoming made autumn unforgettable and just as much of an adventure as my early years. As an adult, my favorite things still happen in the fall. Bowling leagues begin with fresh hope. Football, Halloween, Thanksgiving parades, cozy fashion, harvest moons, and warm apple cider. Fall is a celebration of all the senses. Nearing the end of my employment years in the travel industry, the fall of 2014 brought a deeper transition. I was working in casino reservations at the Excalibur Hotel in Las Vegas when I answered a call from a woman I'd worked with years earlier in Michigan. We were both pretty amused at the fact that we actually recognized each other's “voices” after all these years. During the time we worked together, we sat in close proximity and were quite familiar with our voices. She told me about a remote travel consultant role with an emergency after-hours service. After confirming her reservation, we exchanged numbers - and our next conversation changed everything. We chatted and caught up on what had happened in our lives since we'd last worked together. It was heartwarming to discover we were still following similar paths in the travel industry. Then she described her current job. It sounded like exactly what I needed. Office life had begun to wear me down, and I jumped at the chance to pursue a remote position. That was October. I resigned. By November, I was beginning a new career from the spare bedroom of my home. Setting up a home office wasn't easy, but transforming the guest bedroom was worth it. I created a professional “home” routine - getting dressed (like a casual Friday), scheduling breaks, and staying punctual. That structure kept me grounded, but the freedom of working from home was something I knew I'd never want to give up. During training for my new remote job, my mother's health declined. My brother called - I needed to get to Virginia immediately. Thankfully, Thanksgiving was near and time off was already built into the training schedule. I spoke with my mom before leaving Las Vegas and she told me how proud she was of me - for stepping out, embracing change, and beginning a new chapter at this stage in my life. Her words still resonate. She passed away the day before Thanksgiving. I didn't make it to her in time. Upon returning to training, I carried my mom's final words with me. Office life was now in my rearview mirror - and still is. Making such a change in my 50s felt exhilarating. Some of my friends were cautiously optimistic, but I held onto my mother's pride like a beacon lighting my path forward. Since returning to Las Vegas and completing my training, I've never looked back. When the COVID pandemic turned the working world upside down, I was already equipped to navigate a remote career before it became "a thing." Even though the travel industry took a plunge during the health crisis, I was able to move forward into another remote travel position before eventually retiring altogether. Ironically, my retirement came at the tail end of summer, and my next chapter began, once again, in the fall of 2024. Today, I've come full circle by embracing my original passion from early in life - writing. I now publish a newsletter for retirees who are rediscovering the joy that often gets put on hold while we're busy "life-ing." And, in keeping with a pattern that has quietly followed me for decades, that chapter began in the fall of 2025. Looking back, I realize fall has never simply been my favorite season. It has become the season that consistently reminds me it's never too late to begin again. Maybe that's why I still look forward to the first cool breeze, football games, warm apple cider, and the promise of another autumn.