Fall has returned. It's chill breath drifts across my cheek, stirring up its promise, reminding me that it's never satisfied staying in one place for too long. It's searching and insists I shift again, seeking its mysterious and haunting whisper. It doesn't come most years. I pass from the warm long lazy days of summer, breathing in deeply the salty sea air of home, into the briskness of winter replete with warm woolen socks and tribal treasures under soft twinkling lights. I watch it from afar, a brief nod of appreciation at its distinctive and bold beauty, it lets me rest easy, comfortable most years. Fall has returned, and deep in that misty forest, I can see a trail that wasn't visible before. Not quite like those previously explored, the kind that opens wide and catapults you down them, demanding you muscle out your wings and soar, lest you plummet to the ground. This one is deep and lush, the undergrowth and low branches sweep the forest floor of twisted roots threatening to either trip or inspire newly found agility. Its persistence is more potent than any predecessor. I'm spooked, but drawn. With the promised guidance of long heard from voices, I hoist myself onto that familiar and often stood upon rock, feeling its support, bolstering my confidence. I can still see the trail, calling...challenging...daring me. I step forward trepidatiously and begin to sense the familiar promise of strengthened myelin sheaths, newly sprouted neurons, and severed connections that no longer serve me. What every trail ventured has given me, its path leading to a more layered, textured me. Fall has returned, and I venture in....hoping not to trip.