If you had asked me to pick a favorite month even a few years ago, I’m not sure I could have done it. There are strong contenders. June is the long-awaited finish line to another school year, the start of summer, and the month we celebrate Lizzi’s birthday. November brings the first real breath of cool air to Jacksonville, Thanksgiving around the table, and memories of my mom, who was born that month. December is Christmas, tradition, and the great exhale teachers wait for all semester.
But if I’m honest, my heart belongs to October.
Yes, it’s my birthday — I won’t pretend that doesn’t help. But it’s not just my day. October holds a bundle of family milestones: my uncles Lyle and Dwight, my niece Issie, and my brother Jeff and his wife Paige’s anniversary. And this year, we marked a big one — our 10-year anniversary. October doesn’t just sit on the calendar; it collects memories.
It’s the season of pumpkins, harvest festivals, and front-porch décor. It’s the heart of high school and college football, where stadium lights feel like bonfires and marching bands practically score the soundtrack of autumn. It’s the month when fall finally starts to feel like fall — even if Florida refuses to play along. Somewhere, leaves are turning. Somewhere, sweaters are being pulled from the closet. Somewhere, the world smells like cinnamon, woodsmoke, and possibility.
And tucked inside those warm feelings is something quieter, too. My mom and I had birthdays just a few weeks apart, and I always loved that connection. Now that she’s gone, October doesn’t hurt — not exactly. But it does tug. It reminds me. It invites me to remember her in the season that already feels so alive. I like to think that’s her little echo — still showing up, still close.
So yes, other months have their charms. But October feels like home — familiar, festive, reflective, and full of the people and memories that matter most.
Copyright © 2025 Doug DeBolt.
