fall
I never seem able to truly appreciate fall until it is over. The beauty that is fall, the changing leaves, doesn't last any longer than the amount of time it takes me to give up that the warm days of summer are past. The moment I truly accept that fall has begun, the pretty yellow leaves are blowing by, flying free from their once static homes high above the ground only to fall and be trampled underfoot. The pink and red ivy that once caressed the facades in brilliant hues is curled up, seeming to die (though the fact that they were red in the first place means death has mostly taken hold).
This time always makes me sad. I want so much to enjoy the crisp weather and the pretty colors. But they are both so fleeting; they only give way to grey skies and lifeless cotton figures militant to return to somewhere that is anywhere but outside, where they currently are. There's no stopping on the street to chat, no pick-up games of frisbee or the random guitar player, shirking his academic responsibilities to pay homage to the world which created him. Instead, for 4 months we have a lifeless world. We make quick eye-contact with the bundle of fabric moving in our direction; a miserable glance which says, "I know your pain". A look which says both, "Hold me, keep me warm" and at the same time, "Mind your own business".
From this moment on, I'm simply holding on until spring. I'm that last yellow leaf, drifting, drifting, looking for someplace safe to land.
This time always makes me sad. I want so much to enjoy the crisp weather and the pretty colors. But they are both so fleeting; they only give way to grey skies and lifeless cotton figures militant to return to somewhere that is anywhere but outside, where they currently are. There's no stopping on the street to chat, no pick-up games of frisbee or the random guitar player, shirking his academic responsibilities to pay homage to the world which created him. Instead, for 4 months we have a lifeless world. We make quick eye-contact with the bundle of fabric moving in our direction; a miserable glance which says, "I know your pain". A look which says both, "Hold me, keep me warm" and at the same time, "Mind your own business".
From this moment on, I'm simply holding on until spring. I'm that last yellow leaf, drifting, drifting, looking for someplace safe to land.