the falling leaves drift by my window

MMMM, the beginnings of fall. Can you feel it? The past two days have dipped a bit into the beginnings of fall weather. And while it's just a taste, I absolutely love it! I can't wait for it to get colder and while we don't have much of a fall season where I live, I'll take it. I won't even start in on how much I miss the change of seasons in France, how the air gets so crisp and you can almost taste fall in the wind as you walk down the crowded streets, wrapped in a cozy coat, hands tucked into deep pockets, a scarf wound expertly around you. The whole experience for me is pure magic.

I really think I'm going to make moving more north a goal at this point. I get to go to San Francisco again in December for work and I am so super excited about it! I love that city, love the weather, love the art, love the clash of cultures, love the food, love the people out on the streets, bumping into each other. It's fanbloodytastic. I think, in a couple or few years, if I can afford it and I've really built my resume with my current job, I'm going to get my butt out of this town. And anything north of say Santa Cruz would make me happy, preferably near the coast. *sigh* I get all wispy and gooey just thinking about it.

How can anyone be unhappy in the fall? I know, I know, the majority of people get all depressed this time of year. It gets cold, the sun disappears, people stay inside, ergo, depression. When I lived in Paris, our French friends had a running joke that they used to freak us Americanos out. They told us that during fall and winter, people jump in front of trains on the metro. So, of course, whenever a train stopped, we were convinced some poor sod had hurled him or herself to their perilous metro-death. What is that in French? Le Train du Mort? Something like that. My French is tres rusty. Point being, most people prefer the warmer weather, when the flowers bloom and the bees start humping birds. Or something like that.

Except, and maybe this is more proof of my insanity, I'm so not like that! I love when the heat dissipates and everything gets cold and the leaves fall. I love the light drizzle and the grey skies. I love that! Lovelovelovelovelove!

A few years ago, I wrote a little poem the on first day of fall, which I feel is appropriate today because of the change of seasons, sure. But, it's also pregnant with metaphor which seems particularly applicable to me right now. Enjoy:

a quarter past midnight and the doors are locked tightly and demurely

slightly hazy, the parking lot lights shimmer and quiver

the air is tangible, crisp, teasing with autumnal promises

as it crackles with energy full of change and remnants of childhood

with the irresistible excitement of something new and intriguing,

I part my lips just slightly and breathe in the barely fall breeze

it even tastes like autumn, like leaves the color of elementary schools

and miniature ghouls marauding for sugar and smashed pumpkins

yet, on this eve, whence a season dares to dance round my heart,

something new floats in the night, a flavor unknown, perhaps merely a scent

I barely sense it, inhaling deeply, attempting to discover its source

but I cannot, for while I am wholly captivated, it is all too faint to discern

and at that, tiptoeing into the recesses of my unconscious, it becomes just that

simply a memory I cannot finger, only smile at the deliciousness of my anticipation

and realization gives way to imagination or perhaps the reverse occurred as well

for a new and stirring scent at the door of a season, is inherent in such change

still something else tingled in the breeze, more than change, more than the night,

more than inklings of fall, but something old, forgotten, abandoned like a childhood toy,

battered and broken, though apparently not beyond repair, for it took one a new taste

and I reached for it once more with all the exuberance of a child in women's clothes

for the thing so unnameable, yet desirable, inhabits many names and faces

it is the face of hope, a catalyst for life, hurtling toward a future I cannot foretell.

hope so childish and silly only as an adult do I truly want it, do I appreciate

its possibilities, its promises, its unabashed fervor for seeking unforgettable moments

like tonight

with the air so crisp and raw,

electric with desire

and something new and promising

standing before me

a life mine for the taking

if I but smile