Autumn Is A Middle-Aged Woman

I've been listening to old Simon and Garfunkle lately. It returns such feelings, and it brings new ones as well. What is it about music that moves me so? Is it the slight melancholia that wraps itself like a warm blanket around my memories? Is it the timelessness of those memories that present themselves in a three minute format? Maybe it is just that time of year.

For me, fall brings to mind a reflection of not only the past year, but also my past. It is the aging of the year, it is the aging of me. It is the march towards death, it's the end of the year. That alone is a tiny death.

In January, everything is new and possible. As the year progresses, the blooming of events reveal longer days and more activity. After the rush of summer brings a slowing, an aging. I begin to feel older. I am more tired. The days shorten. I bring out my sweats. Even the flowers begin to deconstruct.

Autumn is like a middle-aged woman, still lots of surprises, still a slowness. Sometimes one's past is bigger than one's future, sometimes there is a second bloom.

Don't ever give up on the year. Don't ever give up on the self. Even though the year is waning, I am not. Not this year. My possibilities are blooming like April. And still the fall brings me to reflect on the yesterdays of my life.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lO9Ild2cvdg&feature=related