Fall always feels like your time, sweet Anja. Fall 2011 was a time of comfort, coziness, the warm, conspiratorial feeling of growing you, learning to know you, waiting to witness your way through the world. The leaves fall red and golden and the rain imprints them black on the sidewalks. Red, gold, black. Pearly grey skies. Misty rains turn into downpours. I put on the coat I wrapped once around my growing belly, wrap it around nothing, pull it in tight. We make our way to school in a new neighbourhood, where I did not expect to find memories of you. Now I understand they come to me where I am. Your brother speeds ahead on his new pedal bike. Your sister holds my hand and tells me about the new friend she is making. Red and gold leaves drift around us and the mist of almost-rain settles on my hair and cheeks.