You have no idea how hard it has been for me to do this post, haha. Not for any particular reason, but because during this weekend, I have been in a state of emotional turmoil. A mix between the deepest nostalgia and facts, which are anecdotes of the past, that produce in me a deep melancholy. It is a strange mixture indeed. But I promise you will like the next story you are about to read.
November 6th, 2025, in the morning hours. For the first time, in over three months, I had absolutely nothing to do on a Thursday morning. My daughter is at home with me, I have already prepared breakfast, it is a cold and cloudy autumn day. She's happily on the computer watching a series about talking, problem-solving kittens, and I, on the recommendation of my boyfriend who doesn’t live with me, evidently, start watching a docu series that changed the course of what would be my weekend, Netflix’s The Last Dance.
I was never a basketball fan, I swear. But all the men of my childhood, yes. My dad, my older brother, my grandfather, all of them. Michael Jordan, he paralyzed my home. I mean, a Chicago Bulls game in the 90s at my house would elicit a smile and a special attention from them. I still remember it like it was yesterday, oh the nostalgia. My boyfriend wasn’t aware of this fact, and on Wednesday night he had sent me recommendations via WhatsApp on what to see on Thursday. There was The Last Dance and that intro, oh, that intro.
I’ll leave it around so you can remember what a few notes played on loop can provoke in the senses. Although this is not a post about Jordan’s figure and impact, though maybe one day it will be. It’s more about how a day of relaxation and tranquility can turn melancholy but beautiful. That morning, I watched a couple of episodes, bundled up my little girl and we went for an aimless stroll.
The trees evidenced the inexorable passage of autumn in their leaves. Nothing stopped nature from showing how it is preparing for the winter that is getting closer and closer. The days begin to be shorter than the nights. The sunsets lose their golden hue and begin to predominate the scales of grays and blues in the temperature of the colors of the day. Images of everyday and normality accompanied my walk, but here I wanted to show them to you.
If you ask me, which you don’t, of course, haha, I would tell you that this is my favorite season of the year. It’s not too hot, not too cold. The atmosphere is aesthetically unbeatable and the photographs are the most beautiful. I am in love with autumn and living these three months of the year to the fullest. Although I must tell you that the climate change is noticeable where I live. Before, the change of season was more pronounced. Now, at times of the day, the heat is intense and the early mornings are extremely cold. Very polarized peaks, in my opinion.
The roads still have some of their greenery but with a different tonality. One that is fainter, a sign of the cold that changes everything and that is typical of these dates where Christmas and the end of the year are only a few weeks away. The order of the day is over when memories determine how you will feel. Today it has been the nostalgia and melancholy of a time that I did live but from a different point of view. Michael Jordan, the Chicago Bulls, a mythical song, autumn and a simple aimless walk. This is my weekend experience, one of the 90s in the middle of 2025.
