Changing From a Reluctant Product
i.
The rain never came today.
When I stepped outside to check on the caterpillar making a home in my parsley plant, it felt like the sticky humidity of early summer;
I ran back inside.
With the windows closed tightly and the doors barring the way I can agree with the calendar that tells me it is Fall again,
Again.
Circles inside mazes inside darkness - when I close my eyes it makes me feel dizzy.
The haunted house around the corner employs a spotlight that you can see flying down the highway towards home.
Apples are everywhere, and they taste good, too, reminding me that sunshine made them ripe.
When I wake in the morning I want my Fall cup of tea - not too hot, I'm not freezing just yet.
But then summer came back and knocked on the door.
ii.
I don't believe I have ever transitioned well.
I loved all of you that I abandoned, in my way and time and I miss you every now and again.
If I had been different it all could be changed but the point is that I always felt too different from you all.
A parade of faces and names marches through my head and I wish I could arrange it so you all could meet each other and perhaps understand better my failings.
A train of ghosts making merry with anecdotes and corner whispers, as if you cannot speak ill with the dead.
Every now and again I miss each one of you, profoundly, and I regret the choices I have made.
In my imagination, I believe that you feel that same way.
iii.
I've started preparing for the cold, bracing for the wind.
My cedar infused thinning cardigan is calling for me to wash it clean again,
Again.
Soon I can justify baking things, filling the house with moist, fragrant heat, making it smell like home.
Turkeys are waiting to be purchased and gifts to be brightly wrapped
And the thing I love most is that it brings us together as we look to each other to chase away the cold.
*****
I thought I'd let you all know that you can comment on anything here. I do appreciate critique - as long as it's preceded by a ton of flowering compliments.
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