September or October, the first morning that requires a jacket.
You forgot what cold was like. You didn't forget the word — you just forgot the specific fact of it: the way the air has weight, the way your breath does something it didn't do yesterday.
The body remembers differently than you do. It recognized this before you did, contracted slightly toward its own warmth before you'd registered what was happening.
You'll know this cold all winter. By February it will be simply weather.
But today it's new again — the old thing arriving into a body that's been warm so long it had to learn cold again from the beginning.
Every return is a first time for something.