It’s not summer, But autumn

— after Hike to God’s Point by Kelly Russell Agodon

It’s not summer, but autumn and while you love the cool air on your skin, the coziness and the beauty of changing leaves, there is a deep inescapable pain. You don’t want this to be true, but it is. The gorgeous maple that shone so bright on the curve up Greenhaven Road; past the stop sign at the bottom of the steep hill. She stands in all her glory and you mark time as you pass. The beauty of the deep red, then orange, then yellow as if a bright sun is in it’s center and there to shine just for you; to remind you that you are seen and safe. Inevitably, she drops all her leaves, the air gets colder, the sun sets later and later and going inside is unavoidable.

You love summer and dangling inchworms, the beach and the Katydids. This is a time of joy and bike riding, of jumping in the lake and swimming to second raft. It’s a time of camp songs and sewing with Grandma on the porch, picking tomatoes, eating corn and peaches.

Autumn, while beautiful, is a dreadful time. It’s where pain and fear live. It’s where you are trapped and it’s where the flickering light from the TV is your focal point. Holding on, you manage. You create stories of toothbrushes talking and you fly around your room. As you get older, you turn more inside and your anger starts to grow - innocent victims suffer as you seek salvation somewhere.

Why can’t autumn simply be the beauty of that maple tree? Why can’t it be apple picking and warmth, closeness and bounty. Why can’t it be what’s natural. This isn’t and yet it is your autumn. Perhaps it’s time to stop fighting the incongruences and accept. You do love the changing colors. Focus there as a starting point.

From an Untamed Writing class taught by Dana Childers