Nostalgia For What Can Never Be

There hasn't been anything new for a while now. Nothing that I have learned. I haven't used my time wisely. I am just following the days as I always have. I am here.
I watched our cat listen to the season change yesterday. He heard the first howls of Autumn's wind through a tiny space in the window. His ears rotated toward it before any other part of his body. His head followed at the second whistle. His eyes grew larger. He is just now a year old, this is the first fall he will remember. He is taking it in and adding to his pattern. As the wind continued to serenade him, he forced his legs down into the bed, lifting his torso, and padding across to the window. He watched until he was satisfied that the change would not disturb his world too much. Then he licked his paw with acceptance and returned to his warm spot on the bed's farthest corner. Curled into a contented shape, his new discovery only showed itself in the occasional twitch of the ear and squint of the eye.
I wonder if the cat was amazed by the changing of the world? He didn't show it the way I know you would have, Frost. I know that your little eyes would have questioned the wind's whoosh, and I would have given you the words for it. I would have said "The wind is blowing kisses to the trees", and we would have watched the leaves dance and drift to the ground. Your sister would have brought you the brightest orange leaf for you to crunch in your little hand. I would have made it disappear like magic right before your little mouth could find it. Hadley would have made jokes in the raked piles for you to laugh at, and the next year you would repeat them to her, when you were old enough to run and crash into one of childhoods' greatest treasures. Your Daddy would have held you up to the deepening sun and watched you shine in its glow. He would have told you how to play tricks on your sister and me. The two of you would have kept man secrets. You would have made your own traditions and we would have all shared in them together.
In between seasons there is a certain breath in the air that speaks of change and memory. It is a reminder that we are part of the cycle, part of something. You have a place here, I've kept it for you.
Night, night Frost
Mama loves you.