It rained yesterday, and drizzled this morning, and for those of you acquainted with my (relatively few) complaints about my apartment, you know that means only one thing: overpoweringly strong stench of sewer gas! Woo-hoo!
After class today, I opened my windows and was greeted by the unmistakable aroma of… autumn. You know how people say they can “smell rain” before it comes? I can too, but I can also smell seasons. And the scent of autumn is a very powerful one.
Autumn is a strange time for me. I love it. I crave it, really, all year long, I can’t wait for it to get here. There’s a tangible shift in the atmosphere from carefree days of summer to the slightly darker, more introspective aura of autumn. The presence of Halloween in the midst of it all is certainly a factor; it’s always been one of my favorite holidays, surpassed only by Christmas (and then only because I like the family-ness of that day). The weather calms down a bit around this time of year; it gives us a breather while it shifts between blasting us with overwhelming heat and humidity and showering us with ice and snow.
And in that interim period we call “autumn,” there is a strange presence of bittersweet acceptance. The animals start preparing for winter and its impending hardships. The trees light up in a blaze of fire-hued glory before letting their once supple leaves fall silently to the ground. The thunderstorms sometimes come, but they do so with less fervor and violence than the ones that clamor for attention in the summer months.
The season is bittersweet for me as well. I feel stronger and more alive in this season than I do in any other, but invariably, I deal with a bout of homesickness, overwhelming nostalgia, and depression too. I’m not sure why. Mums and I have previously hypothesized that perhaps it has to do with childhood memories and post-traumatic stress remnants, as autumn and Halloween were the last memories I have of my father “pre-accident.” His accident occured early in November, so September and October–always favorite months for me–remain exciting and inspiring, and yet also carry with them this sense of dread, or impending disaster, because their end 20 years ago carried with it such a tragic happening for my family.
Plus, several years ago, I lost an aunt very suddenly in the autumn, just days before her end-of-October birthday. The week before she died, she and I attended the symphony together–a first for both of us–and got all dressed up, went out to a nice dinner together, and had a grand ol’ evening. It is my fondest memory of her. It was a bright spot in the autumn season. And so soon after that, she was gone. Again, a bittersweet happening: I wouldn’t trade that final memory of her for the world. I can still see her, dressed in purple, wearing a pearl necklace, hair all done up and smiling… and you know? I have no idea what I wore. No clue. I couldn’t even tell you what style my hair was at that time. I didn’t preserve that part of the memory. Anyway, alongside that really happy and fun memory, I have the indelible mark of the day I learned she died. I was so glad I had that last memory with her… and so crushed she was gone.
Autumn, like I said, is a strange time for me. It’s bittersweet. I still consider it my favorite season. It always has been. I feel closer to all the things I feel around me but cannot see, during this season than in any other. I sense the presence of my own strength and fortitude, my own goals and ambitions, during this season in a more tangible way than I do any other time. If I ever had to pick a time to rise up and conquer a challenge in my life, I would opt for autumn. I’d love to someday get married in the autumn. If I ever have children, I really hope that at least one of them might be born in October (my grandfather an an uncle were, also). Whenever I read horoscopes, I always read the Libra one in addition to my actual birthsign (Aries), because I feel a connection to that sign and its traits. I am a part of autumn somehow in some cosmic way that I don’t pretend to fully understand, but I connect with it. Somehow.
That’s the “sweet” of the season. The “bitter” of it–that’s the sort of resigned acceptance that accompanies the season. And it’s not just me that feels it. As I said, you can see the same feeling in the trees, and the grass, and animals… it’s a transitory season. And maybe it’s supposed to be kind of bittersweet. I think it’s more poignant in that respect even than winter, although winter and spring are usually the seasons credited with the ideas of ending one chapter and beginning life anew in another. But you can’t do that until you’ve gone through that transition, and taken those initial steps in acceptance of what lies ahead while remembering all that lies behind. Autumn never gets credit for that part of the cycle.
Look at what opening the windows will do… a deluge of thoughts. And it made the sewer gas smell dissipate. Bonus.
Take care, and check 6.
Labels: all about me, anecdotes and opinions
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I’m Marissa, can-do-ologist, perpetual Curious George, and daily adventurer. 
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