31

There is nothing sensible or congruent about it,

and that is something I would never bother to deny.  

I've literally jumped at my own shadow, on more than one occasion.

But this seemingly misplaced devotion, I've found, stems from the chaos. People running around as different versions of themselves.  The big, overwhelming October sky and this distinct feeling that just about anything could happen right now.

Oh, Fall.

You have my heart.

Sunday was the most perfect October day I can personally recollect.  I think she's showing off before it's time to leave again.

I'm no Copernicus

Listen, I know.  I know.  Not really breaking any new ground with phone shots of leaves and feet.

But, in contrast to cubicles and elevators and computer monitors, what do you expect.  And who says beauty isn't sometimes cliche.  Today, I'm staring out the window at this delicious gloom and admiring the way clouds are hanging over trees and pretending I'm in London and not bothering with proper punctuation and not focusing on what I should be in any way at all.

Because it rained today, all day long.  The way that it never rains here.  And if I can't take a day off to celebrate that physically I'm sure gonna take it mentally.

futile

Low-hanging clouds settle upon hills, white chocolate and ripe raspberry filling.  Frosting on grass.  Soft light coming in through a window.  Cups of warm liquid and feet bundled into thick socks.  Leaves losing chlorophyll.  A good story, the kind worth getting lost in.  Calico skies.  Early sunsets.  Fogged-up glass.  Wheels on a wet street.  Colors made richer in the gloom. 

This morning I woke up and the world was new.  And I would say that I'm happy.  That's what I would say if anyone asked me.  I'd say that I'm happy in the present, here and now, in that way I often find it difficult to be happy.  But that isn't always the point, is it?

Potential.  Growth.  All of these words I find exhausting and self-righteous and braggy, like the kind of people you might too often find at the gym.  Pain, but the kind that refines.  The kind that you feel after you've done anything worth doing.  Peace.  But the real kind.  That peace of God that "passeth all understanding."

These are the things my mind gravitates back to, between sessions of prime-time television and sleep.

And they all make happy sound futile.  Like a pop song after a summer storm.  Like refined sugar after biting into the season's most perfect nectarine.

I made a wreath.

I made it last week.  And by "made" I mean I bought a wreath consisting of messy branches and attached a bunch of visually-appealing stuff to it with floral wire.  The most difficult part was running around the house looking for the missing pieces that the cat had stolen while I was focusing on something else.

sneaky brat

I also may have spent the majority of last Saturday feverishly adorning our house with any other decorations I had.  And then decorating the rest of it with left-over ribbon to remind everyone who comes within 100 feet of our house that, Hey!  It's Fall!  Just in case you forgot.

And guess what?  You people who want to say, "Woah, Meg, you need to calm down.  It isn't even October yet," you can't say anything anymore.  Because it's officially October 1st.  So this is normal now.

delirious adoration

It's finally past 5:30 again - This time that I find myself doubting the arrival of, every weekday of my life.  Somehow I know the universe has decided to to skip it and I'll be left here, rotting on my swiveling chair, in limbo, forever.  But come it does, saving my sanity upon arrival.  I'm on the freeway with my speedometer pointing to the big 80 toward the top of the 3/4 circle on my dash.  Because I speed.  I speed away from home in the morning and then straight back to it, hours later, just after 5:30 pm.

I look at the clock and I smile.  5:36.  I smile because any minute past 5:30 means freedom.  All of the minutes and seconds I waste and breaths I take past 5:30, I waste and take them freely.

My windows are open.  The sweet post-summer air envelops me, waltzes through my hair and over my skin and sends every movable object around me into an excited frenzy.  I feel the sun, kissing my cheeks in an affectionate hello.  She's golden and cordial and encouraging us all, in direct contrast to the merciless white-hot of the months behind us.

I look around to all of the other people, driving in their boxes of metal and plastic and wheels and wonder what they're thinking now.  With their windows up.  With their speakers muted.  With their hands securely inside of the vehicle and not dancing outside of their window doing air waves.  That's where mine was, and it felt like heaven.  A happy chill went up my arm and onto my shoulders and I about combusted right then and there with delirious adoration for this season.  This promise of Autumn.  This reverent celebration of the natural order of things.  Of finding our way back to the ground, to our roots, to the dust from whence we came.  This big breath, this sense of clarity before the haze of hibernation.

clarity

Last night, sitting on a bench at a strip mall enjoying some frozen yogurt and good company, I felt the first kiss of Fall.

Oh, Fall.  With her dewy mornings and crisp clarity.  With her natural radiance and clear, open night skies.  With her bright leaves and harvest sunsets.  With her ability to persuade us to see the unlikely beauty in death and the inevitable nature of our world.  The reality that all things on this earth were made to end. 

And to her I say: Welcome.

Me, Fall 2010

Welcome, lovely reds and golds.  Welcome, cloudy weather and rainy days.  Welcome to blankets and sweat pants and thick socks, to letting myself get (a little bit) spooked, and to Drew gagging at pumpkin smell.
Welcome to this clear and peaceful state of mind, to the nostalgia it all brings with it.