The Falling Leaf

Just caught a particularly strong breeze while passing an open window, and ended up frozen by it like a deer in headlights. Every part of my body that didn’t have something to do with the processing of scents and sensations shut down, and for a moment there I almost thought I was going to fall over. It was such a strong, cold, and fresh breeze…that it actually felt like I was moving. I suppose I was, in a way. It reminded me of driving– sit still, yet move fast and go far— which reminded me of other autumns, since passed. I used to drive in circles. Big circles, down country roads with the windows down. I don’t do that anymore…waste of gas, mostly, and I think after a time I was unable to fool myself any longer. The great joy in driving is that it provides the illusion that you’re going somewhere. You’re in transit– bad things behind you, good things ahead. Takes some time before you realize that it’s just your tail up there, on the horizon.

Autumn is an ‘in transit’ time, I think. Why this doesn’t comfort people, and seems to inspire anxiety and depression instead, is a bit of a mystery. I guess it probably has something to do with the dissonance there; we feel as though we should be in transit, with the seasons, but life has a way of remaining stubbornly fixed, despite the weather. I think this can contribute to an inexplicable feeling of being ‘left behind’ by the world– a feeling made all the more urgent by the darkening days, the sunday night seasonal blues, and the distant call of winter.