Autumn Equinox

“My sorrow, when she's here with me, thinks these dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be; she loves the bare, the withered tree; she walks the sodden pasture lane.”

-Robert Frost

Today is the first of October. Autumn is in full swing, at least it seems that way here. For me, the fall has always been a time of reflection, of memory, and sometimes, of melancholy. The sounds of the season, even the cars on the streets outside, somehow always bring me back to my high school years. I remember lying in bed early in the morning, just before getting up, and listening to the sounds outside, anticipating the start of a new school year, and what adventures it would bring. Too, was the nervous feeling of wondering if this year I would fit in. Usually by day two of a new school year I gave that hope up in favor of being an outsider on purpose.

That might sound strange, but it's true. Part of it, I think, was that I was in control of my own destiny, at least in my mind. If I didn't fit in by design, then it was by my own choice, and not something I was forced to endure. Ridicule then, became fuel for the fire of my independence and creativity. I was (and still am) an artist, with all the quirky traits that people normally associate with we artsy types. I went to a little farm school that was typical of the Midwest. I, however, had lived my life on the open road, it seemed for as long as I could recall. Being part of a military family sometimes means that you move around a lot. I had lived from one end of the country to another. That we settled in the Midwest rather than the West Coast..well.. that was simply part of the bane of my teenage existence.

Because of my diverse experience, as well as a rather indulgent mother (who didn't even flinch when I shaved half my head, spray painted my hair neon pink, and wore safety pins in my lip and ears) I was the only punk/new wave person in our entire town. I was in the year book every bit as much as the most popular girl and boy in school. It was simply for very different reasons.

I guess when it came right down to it, I was heading things off before they actually occurred. My outward appearance took attention away from the awkward, lonely girl beneath all those trappings. My false bravado was worn like armor. It was only when I was back in the safety of my own bedroom that the facade could be lifted, and I was once more...myself. My room was my sanctuary. I nursed the wounds of unrequited first love beneath the pink canopy of a French Provincial bed. I eased the ache of unpopularity with plates of macaroni and cheese and pizza and anything else I could stuff in my face while watching Facts of Life, looking like Nathalie but wishing I was Blaire. I cried enough tears to cause a second coming of Noah.

I know that for every story of hurt and heartache I can share, there are hundreds upon thousands of others who could do the same. I guess that's the bond we as human beings get to share, or at least one of them. I survived my teenage years somehow, as most of us get to do. While I no longer have pink hair or safety pins sticking out of my head in odd places, I am sometimes still that awkward, lonely girl. I have progressed from stuffing my face with every available food I could possibly find, to writing down my thoughts and feelings and figuring out how to make myself better. I'd call that a success.

Autumn symbolizes a last glorious gasp before the bleakness of winter sets in. For most of my life I have related it with death. All those leaves lifeless on the ground gave good reason for my melancholy to set in. This year however I look at it differently. It's not about death; it's about getting rid of the unnecessary in preparation for a much needed rest, and renewal and growth. It is the ending of one time in preparation for the beginning of another. The trees are simply slimming down, becoming a blank canvas for the glorious beauty of spring. Change takes time. It's always happening, though, whether we see it or not. My life is like that right now, both physically and in all other areas. And for the first time in a long time, I do not mourn the fall. I am not bleak at the thought of winter. And, most of all, I am very much looking forward to my spring.