Friday Line
Hello Autumn, you fickle thing.
A week or so ago I received one of those “Neighbor Alerts” from Ring. Someone was found in their vehicle in a retention pond, not far from where I live. Of course, there is always speculation and there was talk of it being intentional. Later, that is was an accident and the person, an elder, may have accidentally driven into it instead of their driveway.
Anyway, between whatever actually happened, I wrote a piece having to do with the changing of seasons here in the Midwest. How for some, it’s not just the turn of the weather, but us. It ran on a bit, so I am going to throw it on the Word Counter site and work around my magic number (of words) and hope I can turn it to something better.
I am a Fall Baby through and through. I love this time of year but man, this is also the season of loss. I noticed it more having worked at the Senior Living home nearby. I am picking up a shift Monday, so I will be reminded again that is not just the leaves that fall, and as the weather cools, and colors, brighten and fade, and the ground hardens, so does our resolve, sometimes. Our seniors grow nostalgic, slow down, stiffen, start to keep more to themselves if they don’t have a buddy or clique. Their pain is amplified, limbs stiffen, etc. You see it.
At any rate, only a couple of them know I will be working a FULL shift Monday and I know it will be a pleasant surprise. If nothing else, they will have my kindness and smoking playlist from 8am-4pm, something they do not get on the regular.
I was looking up quotes about Fall and found one from A Moveable Feast, by Ernest Hemingway. I used to read it every year around this time and stopped. I think I will pick it up again to see if it still has the same allure. I haven’t read much Hemingway, but I’d have to guess this is a softer version of him?
“Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light.”
― Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast
