And The Seasons, They Go Round And Round

I always underestimate the fall. Spring has always been my favorite season because it revolves around, both literally and metaphorically, the rebirth of a world that once seemed lost beneath the snow. With the arrival of spring, I am always reminded that life goes on, that no matter how hopeless things may seem at times, eventually the sun will come out again. Eventually the beauty of the world will be illuminated once more. Eventually we will be able to rejoice in our happiness.

Likewise, fall has always seemed like the transition into death, that time between the freedom of summer and the harshness of winter. I watch the leaves turn colors, their bright green fading into shades of brown, their edges crumbling in the cool air. I watch them slip from the limbs of the balding trees, hovering for a moment on the soft winds, before ultimately admitting defeat in their fight against death. Silent and still, they dot the surface of the cold, hardening earth with a kind of delicate beauty found only in the final moments of life. They hit the ground. They lose their brilliance.

This afternoon on my way home from school, I turned down a quiet street. I’ve been down it many times before, but today it somehow seemed different. The houses seemed so small and perfect, as though someone had wanted to paint a portrait of suburbia. I pictured the families inside, the mother knitting by the fire, the father reading in his leather chair, the children outside playing among the falling leaves. At 6 o’clock, their mother would call them into dinner where they’d all sit in their assigned chairs and listen to the stories about one another’s day. It’s funny, even after all these years of never experiencing this kind of life, this is still how I envision family. Especially in the fall.

The trees lining the street were beginning to change color, but I wasn’t saddened by them. I had underestimated fall. The deep reds, the stunning yellows, even the cascading browns of the leaves were gorgeous. Suddenly I was so happy. The cold winds whipped through my windows as I drove, and I was too entranced by the smell of fall to care that my ears and nose were freezing. I pulled my green hat snugly over my head and smiled, welcoming fall into this new year of my life. This is not a time of death, but an opportunity to wipe the slate clean in a final blaze of exuberance. This is not a time of death. It is only a new beginning.