The days are shorter, shadows longer, short-sleeve shirts are stowed, long-sleeve sweaters unpacked; so begins October. My mood changes as Fall is unfurled. A somber mellowness sets in as clouds billow. The coming Santa Ana winds ignite restlessness and a bone dry hunger. Still the wind is fresh and in the crisp clear sky there is a promise of refreshing to come, things in the air too deep to fathom.
Fall brings the daughters’ birthday; fourteen this year. Fourteen rich years; unique, ever-changing and fun-filled. Two years until she can drive, twenty years until she can date. The cycle of life continues, the trees turn from greens to crimsons, changes deep, visible only in variegation.
Autumn this year is a mix, the usual solemn mood mixed with expectation, hope, longing as God cultivates a relationship begun in summer. Satisfying to the soul as mulled cider on a cold night---delectable, spicy, awakening the senses.
As the calendar marches toward Dia de Los Muertos I know this season will bring with it dark days. Dad dances with his Alzheimer's. It leads him into a psych ward then steps away to dance with another partner. The 18th mom would have turned 82. So we must all taste ‘pan de muerto.’
The swamp cooler covered, the gas furnace lit I reach for another glass of Syrah. Turning down the thermostat I crack the window and let in the chill air. The days come in an array of color complex as leaves in fall, bright as the burgundy sunset, the ‘bread of life’ ever victorious over the ‘bread of death.’
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