Autumn as a Lover (A Mid-Series Post)


I wish I could capture today and put it in a bottle. I’d open it in all those moments of doubt about my relationship with autumn.

When she betrays me with days of bitter cold.

And fog.

And that chill that goes to your bones.

I’d capture the sound of the school bell and the shouts that follow immediately after. I’d capture the leaves, some turning, some already given up. I’d breathe deeply the sunshine on fallen leaves, the smell of earth, the breeze. I’d capture every street sign and fire hydrant, illuminated in an autumnal glow.
I’d capture the feeling of carrying my son in his gray and green striped turtleneck, those bright eyes looking out as we walk in the three o clock haze. I’d capture the feeling of his fuzzy head as it grows heavy against my heart and the long, long lashes against his cheek as he sleeps.

I’d capture the sound of my tennis shoes gently making rhythm on the sidewalk. The world holding still in afternoon light. I’d capture those one or two trees, bright yellow or red, that dazzle. But I wouldn’t forget the browns and muted greens and mustard yellows. I’d capture pumpkins sitting on porches in stillness, waiting for children to come running up the steps.

I’d capture the muted sounds of birds and crickets,  subdued, rhythmic, nothing fighting for center stage on this autumn day.

But autumn can’t be captured; she is not a faithful lover. She will trick you with days of glory like this followed by those cold, dark days when you can’t get warm. She’ll trick you with freezing mornings that give way to afternoons like this one, trying to capture your love, but just when you grow sure of her, she’ll send dark and biting cold.

Autumn is like spring–a season of waiting, growing, changing. Their beauty will take your breath away, but they won’t stay with you. One day, you will wake up to find them gone.

If you want a faithful lover, you should choose summer. She may be moody with her occasional thunder storms, but you can always count on light and warmth to follow.

Autumn and spring, growth and change. Ultimately they are the most beautiful, but terribly, terribly bittersweet

Like the growth of that boy, just a speck inside you this time last year, who changes before your eyes each day.

But for now he is holding still, waiting, glorious right before your eyes.

So sit on the porch as long as you can. Drink in the autumn day. Don’t put him down for his nap; hold him and hold him and hold him. Watch how the afternoon sun lights up his hair like a halo. Feel the warmth of that day and that baby. Too soon, they’ll be gone. Their leaving will give way to even more glory. But always, always, bittersweet.


This is my attempt to look at the world through the Eyes of a ChildI have been trying to see the world this way more and more, even if my writings on it have been lacking. I plan to continue the series as long as it takes for me to get to 31 days. 


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