Fallen Leaves

I noticed the other day that the ground was blanketed with fallen leaves. Fall had arrived imperceptibly as we eked out one more minute of the waning summer days. The air conditioner and fan, which had been on continually since our arrival, has stayed quiet these last two days. The weather reports tell us some areas have experienced their first frost. My last grocery delivery had a plastic jug of pressed apple cider, surely a sign that fall is here.

I looked up at the sweep of trees in our neighborhood, noting the twinge of rust on the edges of some of the leaves. Pretty soon, the air will be crisp each day, requiring us to don a jacket as we head out doors. Even the meals I cook changes with the subtle shifts in temperature. Heartier dishes of stews and casseroles seems fitting when the air outside is just cold enough to energize you yet not cold enough to make you shiver inside your coat. This time of the year and the changes, some dramatic and some subtle, that is a part of the natural slowing down rhythms, also offers us time to take stock. The end of another year is far enough away to fill you with hope that your list of 'to do' is still within reach, even if not wholly realistic. Yet, the end is, for most of us, in our sights as the signals of time's passage now manifests in ways we now accept as normal. The stores, some decorated with Halloween, will too quickly, be decorated for that other holiday of gold garland and red velvet.

And so, another year looms ahead. Another year, another blank page, even if the story is already half written by the daily responsibilities of each of our lives. This gaze forward is coupled with the natural need to glance backwards, to see the progression of your life. When I do this, I see many distances, physical and emotional. I barely recognize the sadness that had filled out the rough sketch of my image.

This sadness now takes on a different hue as it is fueled less by the frustration of living a life unrecognizable to what you had wanted, but instead is a wistful melancholy for the sacrifice of friendships and daily contact of these intertwining relationships forsaken for this new life, a life I had dreamed into reality by the sheer force of my desires, or so it feels.

It is this time of year that one is forced to contemplate your life and life in general as time slows down each day. Pretty soon, the day's light will be shortened to an hour where the day feels truncated as the sun sets in the late afternoon. And with this will come the burrowing in of ourselves behind glass and plaster, shielding ourselves from the increment of weather raging outside.