On Unanswered Questions

A new season is born yet I am reminded of bereavement. As I take the same sidewalk to downtown Holland, Michigan each day, I see the unhurried passing of the red and yellow flowers in the park on my route. I grieve the loss of the fireflies and backyard parties; of trips to the lake and warmed skin. The fiery red and orange leaves burn the treetops until their barren brown limbs eagerly await the first frost.

Despite what the calendar says, I am almost certain autumn properly arrived yesterday in the form of the wind and the rain and the definite chill in the air that won’t disappear until May. As a cold drizzle slowly soaked me on my walk home from class, I accepted this transformation…

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