Apprehensive of Autumn

This is the first year, in all my forty one years that I can recall being apprehensive of the coming fall. I usually yearn for the cooler weather, the handful of leaves that turn here in east texas, the anticipation of holidays with family. This year is different. I find myself with a catch in my stomach whenever I think about Autumn. My mind does a sharp about face everytime the Autumn occurs to me. I try to ponder it, i try to roll it around to see the root cause for these alien feelings, but my brain will not cooperate.

This morning, while I was doing my speed interval walking, I looked down and there was the most beautiful sweet gum leaf. It is only a half inch tall, but it was perfectly shaped and had brilliant colors of crimson red and Thanksgiving yellow. I picked it up and carried it gingerly between my finger and thumb, by the stem, for the rest of my workout. I now have it taped to the side of my monitor. While I am typing this I look at it and its so beautiful that it breaks my heart and I start to cry. Again, this is not the way I have always celebrated and anticipated Autumn.

So as my mind tries to scatter, and I try to hold it still long enough to piece my feelings together, I come up with this: time is moving forward and I am not ready. I am not ready to let go of the past or the present or the people around me. I no longer welcome you Autumn, I do not want to be reminded of death and leaving, I do not want another year to pass so quickly.