I don't know if there's a special word for the smell of autumn leaves when you step on them. It's kind of a nutty smell, a little bit rainy, a little bit mossy. It's one of my favorite smells in the world because of the memories it brings up for me.

My grandparents lived in a town with a lot of trees, and we'd go visit them for Thanksgiving. The sidewalks would be covered in colors from brown to red to orange to yellow, and I'd walk along those sidewalks and kick the leaves high in the air and listen to them chatter as they fell back to the ground. Then of course was the satisfying crunch of stepping on them, the snap, crackle, pop under my feet. Those colors and those sounds and particularly that smell remind me of grandparents and holidays and warm feelings and childhood, and I'm filled up with nostalgia so sweet, it almost hurts sometimes.

My grandparents are gone now. Their houses have been sold and other families are living there. My parents are also gone. I still have my sisters. We're now the guardians of the memories, and I am the cruncher of the leaves.