The hour of eight post meridiem strolls by and I can't help but notice the change of light. The colors called me. They didn't speak in shades of cool but hues of warmth. The shadows played with golden light. They peaked through the four framed window settled at the top of the front door, the door that covered the shine of light from me. I walked towards it. Each step towards the light was covered in dust particles floating, dancing in the orange air. It felt cold. The air conditioning has always been too much for me. I liked the feel of summer warmth on my skin even if it's 80 degree mid August Utah. Especially if it's 80 degree mid August Utah.

I stepped outside. Like a dream, everything was a golden blur. My eyes couldn't adjust. The sun was shining it's hardest. Hiding behind some mountains and in my peripheral view was the green of leaves. It was just until I looked down at my feet and saw a little to the left. A red leaf to signal the beginning of the plague of Autumn. I took a deep breath of what was left of summer. The denial never hit me so hard before.

Before I knew it, the brown cardboard boxes were all lined up on the basement living room floor. All of my clothes were neatly jammed into these cubes. My heart sunk deep into a hole that I couldn't excavate deep enough to find. I've always been a believer of feeling every emotion to the deepest form, being grounded and just being present. But this, this was unbearable.

Nine years I have dreamt of city lights, fashion design, New York City, Parsons. Three months ago I was ready to leave and pursue all I've ever wanted. A week ago, my phone bursts with "when do you leave?", "let's hang before you go" and "one last times." I laid next to my older sister on my bed and we both stare at the ceiling but for a moment I witnessed more than just the white ceiling. A crack in her voice and a rarity of a lifetime, I see tears rolling down her cheeks as she goes on like nothings bothering her.

Friends and family will still always be here for me but it's the thought of not being able to text my best friend that I'm on my way when she's heartbroken or walking next door to bug my sister when I want to. It's not being able to see my grandmother upstairs reading the newspaper everyday or my dog who anxiously wags his fluffy tail in excitement to see me come home. It's not being able to drive to little downtown Salt Lake City or retreat to the canyons or mountains any second that I want. Every goodbye is a flooding memory of my three second summer. Spending the whole summer at home in Utah was supposed to make me ready to leave but I found myself in a state of nostalgia and realizing that all I love is here. Manhattan will treat me so well and I know it, but these goodbyes to people, places and things are unbearably something else.