It’s fall, my favorite season of the year…a time to pour myself a warm cup of apple cider, use the rest of the apples to make pies, invite friends over to celebrate our harvest, gather pumpkins on our doorsteps and watch the golden leaves fall. I can’t begin to tell you how happy I am in the fall. For some reason, I become energized by warm colors and private house potlucks where good friends brew our favorite teas. New York City becoming sepia under this spectacular season makes me want to snap pictures to capture its tale of romance. However, more special to me this season is the sentiments it brings. I was walking down a street populated by bright orange pumpkins this weekend and remembered how every fall I evolve into a new person walking the streets with new eyes, and new pair of boots (sometimes old), crunching sticks and stones on familiar paths, nonetheless. I remembered exactly where I was many a autumn before this one and saw the gradual change. Emerging from each summer, I'm ripened by the sun, ready to be picked and seasoned with grace. Fall is a time of harvest where I reap the fruits of my labor. I allow myself to look back into the fields and see trails of my footprints in the soil moistened by sweat and tears, worthwhile nonetheless.
This is one of those years where I look back as I pass by Brooklyn brownstones decked in Halloween decorations, city parks crowned with turning leaves, and downtown Manhattan ridden with newcomers seeking freedom in the city. I remembered the significance of these places to my growth years before, and startled by the changes, not in the scenery, but within myself. Now I’m chasing my dreams, heading down a one-way street with the windows rolled down, eager to get out and reap my harvest.
Nicole © 2010
0 comments:
Post a Comment