Autumn represents a time of death for a lot of people. Nature is getting ready to hibernate during winter. Water slowly freezes over, trees shed their leaves, the air gets a chill. For me, autumn has always been when I am at my best. When I went to school, I was fresh during the autumn. I was still optimistic about the year. Summer was still in my bones and I carried that light through the darker evenings. The changing leaves didn’t represent dying; their colors were as if the world had caught fire and burned brightly down the streets and through forests. The fragrance of cinnamon and apple seemed to be infused into everything, even people’s clothes and on their skin, and it woke my senses in a way that the sleepy, muggy smell of summer grass never could.
Autumn represents rebirth to me. Because school was always so important, summer was nothing more than a time to recharge, a ramp leading up toward fall where “real life” began. Even without school, autumn promises change. My counseling is getting more intensive, I have dreams about cleaning, baking, and reading. I’m hopeful that the fires of autumn continue to ignite and spread flame into every area of my life and my environment. I want to live. I want to live on fire.