Funny how year after year, autumn laps at my toes long before it seems it should arrive. This morning it came with the first sip of my coffee. Memories of bringing Briar home washed over me and I was back at our first house, the light through the window and the smells around me all from 2004. Reposting this from three years ago. I’m five and heading off to Harris Elementary School to meet Miss. Thompson. I’m eleven and figuring out what separation and divorce really mean. I’m thirteen and poring over Seventeen Magazine, devouring how Jennifer Connelly, fresh off Labyrinth, is mixing plaid and tweed. I’m fifteen with butterflies thinking this is the year I’ll stop being awkward. I’m eighteen and leaving…