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Assignment: Write About Your Summer Vacation
I Am Wary About Fall
I am wary about the changing of the seasons, despite the new backpack and the aroma of new Crayola Markers, sharpened pencils and my new scarlet high top Chuck Taylors laced up past my ankles. I am wary of Fall, as it erupts at the end of a particularly tough nine months.
Unusually cool days in August. Trees brushing dead leaves off their shoulders, like dandruff before a healthy course of medicated shampoo. I identify with the birch trees in my yard, as I too, am ready to shed, to shake off, to itch and scratch the worries, the heartache and the sorrow.
But, there always is a But.
I am not ready for the barrenness of Old Man Winter. These naked and exposed nerve endings of mine are not ready for the deep freeze. The high dive into an iceberg.
Therefore, after a one man committee meeting, the final vote is in.
Bring on Fall.
Let in the light and the bright riot of color.
Give me please, that pure golden light, the light photographers seek in the twilight hour, so fleeting and so precious, you must hold your breath, wait and be patient, for it lasts only fifteen minutes at best.
The Mr. DeMille I Am Ready For My Close Up gilded light sprinkled liberally with golden dust, soft and hazy concealers.
Gentle sweetly burnished exteriors.
Mother Nature blushes... by artisan brushes...sprinkled with forgiveness.
There are not enough filters in my camera, nor forgiveness brushes in Photoshop, to eliminate the tracks of my years, etched into the features of my face. However, speaking of etchings, I had a golden moment of light, about one week ago. In the midst of redecorating, moving from Spring and Summer to Fall, I discovered a treasure trove long forgotten, yet deeply loved.
When my Mom died many years ago, I lost virtually everything, every memento of my childhood. To be true, I have only a scrapbook I made myself, at the age of 14, and the pictures are faded and blurry, much like my memories.
I did, however, receive a small blessing. A set of six dessert plates, a candelabra, and a large serving bowl.
Fostoria Glass. From the glass magicians in Fostoria, Ohio...the very same office where my Mom and Dad met. Met face to face, made a pledge of love, and held on as War separated them for four long years.
Love etched on glass over time.
I have it. I found it. The pieces of their love, their wedding presents, tucked in the corner of a cabinet. I pulled them out and tucked flowers in the stemware, the serving bowl, and put candles in the candelabra. Up on the mantle.
Come up I say. Come up and see my etchings. My exquisite etchings of a wedding long past, a love long lived, a couple now perished, and only their memories survive.
Long Love.
Is it possible anymore?
Long love that radiates around a couple like a halo of tenderness.
I saw it in full bloom at the dentist’s office the other day. Two senior somethings shuffling down the hall, hand in hand, one slightly less feeble than the other, but what caught my ear, what resonated in my heart, was the way he, glanced down and said in a soft and caressing voice, “ Take your time sweetheart. I’ve got you.” A vision of a love so deep and strong, I felt like an intruder on a moment so private and endearing, that I stepped back, leaving them their space of long long love.
It is such a rarity these days to find love that spans decades. A love that despite anything the world throws in its way, manages to survive.
Long long love.
Love minus cheating hearts, wandering eyes, roaming hands or endless recriminations. The kind of love that spans generations, stands proudly but not gaudily, as a beacon to young lovers everywhere, that yes, it can happen, it does happen and it is not a fairy tale ending.
For at the end of a long love, abides the deep reassuring faith that I, and only I, will walk with you, even as you falter, even if you fall. I, only I, will treasure you and see beyond the graying of your hair, the lockstep of your joints, the stammer in your speech. For what I will see, what will keep me focused in the days ahead, are the memories I keep in my mind and heart, where you and I will be forever young. Dancing cheek to cheek, amazed and overwhelmed in the maternity ward as a child enters our existence. Through days of plenty and years of need, I will see you only as the beauty you exude, the hand that I hold, late at night, deep in the darkest of days, whispering, crooning my name, reminding me that everything in this life, started and ended with us.
Us.
Long long love.
So therefore, let the seasons change. Let the sand drizzle through the hour glass. Let the world spin and the seasons blossom, for we are ready. Side by side, to need one thing and one thing only.
Each other.
Then let the leaves fall where they may.
For we will walk along together and kick the leaves, warm in the sunshine, and be grateful that all we need, all we have ever needed is each other.
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