Autumn where are you hiding? I am waiting here patiently for you...peering out the window all day for the first sign of a chill in the air. It's hard to gauge in the sweltering desert. Leaves do not turn, the interminable sod doesn't brown, and the air is always stagnant.
Typing emails...phone rings...glancing again...searching for a sign like a second grader praying for a snow day...it dipped below 100 degrees by 10pm today! Surely you are on your way autumn? I took my fall wreath, cornucopia, and Halloween decorations out of the attic tonight. That will hasten your arrival!
How will I know when you're here? All I have to go on are my memories of yesteryear and if I close my eyes and daydream, I can feel the wind whipping up through the withering leaves, knocking off the ones that are too weak and tired to hang on. It stings my cheeks like grandma's pinch just as I finish raking the leaf pile. There they go...scattered everywhere. It doesn't matter. I just reach out my arms as far as they will stretch, my fingers digging at the hardened ground, gathering the crispy, orange ones and soggy brown ones closest to the ground into one giant heap...one more scoop and I will have the biggest pile on the whole street! I can feel the blister forming on the web between my thumb and forefinger of my cold hand as I pick up the big claw and keep raking with fervor. The sound of the metal tines skinning the ground echoes through the air. I wish I hadn't lost my gloves. My blister feels hot and raw, but the biting wind blows across my skin and cools it down for a moment...just long enough to keep raking. The sun sparkles through the dancing leaves onto my face and blinding me in my left eye, causes me to pause for a moment to see the source of warmth. Standing still now, the chill of the wind runs through my jacket hood and down my back and through the denim covering my legs, giving me goosebumps. Now would be the perfect time for hot cocoa. My mind drifts off for a moment to that commercial: kids running inside taking off their hats and gloves and mom is there in the kitchen waiting with a big tray stacked with cups and saucers and a steeping pot of hot water. "Who wants more Ovaltine?" she sings. "We do!" the kids scream in unison. I wish I had an Ovaltine mom. She's inside drinking and cleaning and playing her Linda Ronstadt album over and over again. I can hear her singing through the open kitchen window. After each beer, her singing gets louder and more indescernable. But at least she's happy. Daddy is on a hunting trip, which means he isn't home to yell and scream and throw things and that always makes her happy. I can tell by the way she is singing...
I stand back admiring my work and the magnificence of the Giant Leaf Pile! My head swivels behind me to the creeking metal swing set and then back to the leaf pile. It's not quite dead center, but with a little propulsion, I'll get it just right. The wind is picking up now. Before, it was humming. Now, it's a full-blown whistle. I better act fast before my Giant Leaf Pile becomes the Earth's carpet once again!
Walking with determination, I grab the cold, metal chain links of the swing and steady the yellow plastic seat. Standing in front of the swing, I reach back and grab the chains. Ouch! It is rubbing right on my blister. I pull my jacket sleeve over my hand to cover the blister and grab the chain again. I hop on, already starting to pump my feet to get the swing going. Back....and forth.....lean back.....lean forward....all the while scooping the air with my legs, commanding it to lift me higher and higher. As I gain altitude, the breeze whizzes past my head and knocks my hood down, pummeling my cheeks and my ears. I think they are frozen now. I swing forward...up and up until the Giant Leaf Pile is no longer on my horizon. I lean way back, fixing my eyes on the ground behind me. Then, as I fall backwards on the swing, I swoop toward Earth and the Giant Leaf Pile comes back into view. I am almost there. Just a little higher. The right leg of the swingset starts to pull up from the ground as I swing forward and lands with a thud as I swing backwards. Am I too high? What if I gauge it wrong and break my leg? Or worse, what if the swingset flips over and I fall on my head and wind up like my mom's friend that sits in a wheelchair and drools while everyone else ignores him and talks and talks right in front of him? Am I planning the perfect time to jump or just afraid to let go? I'm high enough I think. My stomach is doing flip flops with each pass. I let go of the chains on the swing and turn my hands around, grabbing them backwards with my wrists facing outward. I lean forward and my stomach really flip flops. Okay...one more pass and this is it....stop pumping...lean forward and LET GO!
I feel myself catapulted through the air, my arms and legs circling in an attempt to direct me, all the while my eyes are fixated on the Giant Leaf Pile getting closer and closer. I land with a swish dead center! I hear the crunch and crackle of the crispy leaves and feel the wetness of the soggy brown leaves on my back. They always leave a stain on my favorite jacket. But I don't care. I lay there smiling and looking up at the sky, surrounded by the warmth of the Great Leaf Pile! Then, I reached out and scooped all the leaves around me, burying me in my coccoon until only my face was visible beneath the leaves. The wind was muffled now and I felt hidden and safe in my coccoon. What a jump! It couldn't have been more perfect! Or would it have been perfect no matter when I chose to jump because that's where I wanted to be anyway?
My jubilation was interrupted by the warble of my mother's voice calling me to lunch. I bolted from my coccoon, scattering leaves everywhere...crunching them into the ground with my feet. As I pounced onto the back porch, mother unzipped my jacket and slid it off my arm and then my back. "Your cheeks are solid red, Kimmy. You look frozen solid! I never understood why you love this gloomy time of the year when everything is dying and ending," she said as she scurried me into the kitchen for a peanut butter sandwich.
I have always been an Autumn child. I don't know the rhyme or reason. I just know that I daydream about the Great Leaf Pile...waiting for the first sign of Fall to come. Maybe even back then I knew that nothing really dies...and endings just make way for new beginnings....
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