It’s fall in Indiana and I’m approaching the high school doors. There is a crisp chill in the air, one that I wait for in anticipation every year. I have a fleece jacket on and my nose is cold. I walk slowly, savoring the sweet smell of autumn in the air. It’s a Saturday morning and no one is here. I hear my feet hitting the cement at a slow but steady pace as I come closer and closer to the three sets of doors that await me. It’s quiet except for the faint sound of the crisp rustling leaves falling in the chilled air. I decide to go through the far left doors; they always seem to be open. I walk through the athletic entrance, where I am most of the time, and continue on through the empty darkened hallways. It’s peaceful and quiet as my feet “clip-clap” on the hard, shiny floor. I go past a few classrooms that hold countless memories of boring lectures, laughter with friends, and challenges every day of the school year. I start walking a little faster; it’s a big school. I go past a row of lockers and think of the many complications that I’ve had with them, only completing the high school experience. I keep walking through the hall, which now becomes carpet and my foot steps sound deeper. I bring my mind back to freshman year where these same hallways that I now know like the back of my hand, seemed like never ending mazes. Every day was a struggle to find my way around, and now it was the same old, same old. I’m warming up now and I take my jacket off, knowing that I am going to be putting it back on when I go out the doors that I am now approaching. I get closer and closer, passing a few more lockers, a few more classrooms, reminiscing on a few more memories as I find the corners of my mouth turning up into a smile. I get to the doors and push them open as a gust of autumn wind hits my bare arms. As anticipated I put my warm, cozy jacket back on and I’m on my way.