I wish that all major life events happened in October. Because it is the most sublimely, ripely mellow of months. It is perfect and golden and crimson and splendid in the fullest sense of splendidness, and it towers and booms and melts and whispers and beams all at the same time, and it is just plain the best thing ever.
O October, I wish I could celebrate my birthday and Christmas and Thanksgiving and Valentine's and everything wonderful during your thirty-one days, because you are perfect, and then I could be connected to you somehow, other than just living through you every twelve months.
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