I am always saddened when the first spell of autumn surrounds me. The heat of summer lessens and we ready ourselves for the chill of yet another winter. Leaves blaze for a moment in glorious shades of red and yellow and orange, only to crumble under our feet, drab and colorless.
I think we all become somewhat despondent as we watch life end and death begin. Perhaps we fear the cold loneliness of long winter months. Even the trees, covered in ice and magically sparkling in the dark, cannot erase the loss of sun and light. We feel we must hibernate, replicate the fetal position in our mind’s eye and push through the famine of four stagnant months.
Reader, if you’ve made it this far, please excuse my over-zealous purple passion pseudo-poetic description, but sometimes I do really feel isolated and alone in winter. It probably goes back to my childhood when summer allowed unstructured abandonment and the freedom to dance in the sun and under the stars. Autumn meant school and teachers and conformity; reading, writing, arithmetic, piano lessons, homework…everything required, nothing left to choice.
I liked school, but I liked my freedom better. I remember once, on a hot summer’s afternoon, getting ‘lost’ in a great patch of daisies and I see it now as my secret garden…just lying there, dreaming of life. I must have been about 10 with everything still ahead and no regrets left behind.
We used to play hop-scotch, (known in my neighborhood as ‘potsy’), tossing our skate keys into each square and trying to keep off the lines. Very much like life, hop-scotch…but in life we often step out of the box and onto the lines. Sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worse. The only problem is, unlike hop-scotch the game, we can’t always do it over. We must absorb our missteps and keep on moving. That’s why the fall season is so sad. It makes us remember a less complicated time.
Well, as Robert Frost said, “The best way out is always through.” We must pull ourselves together, get on with living and look to spring, when the game of life starts anew and the circle is complete.
Contact Adrienne at Ergosum1@comcast.net