Fall is the most beautiful time of the year in the Northeast. There are seasons! Freshman year, when I first saw leaves actually change color, it was a constant awe. The red, gold, yellow, orange, green mix of colors on a single leaf astounded me. I had never been surrounded by so many trees with red foliage living out their seasonal cycle as their leaves changed colors and then fell to the ground, covering the grass and walks. It was a crunchy musical walking through campus. We would take walks together after classes, just to admire the leaves (every 2 minutes, I would gasp at how beautiful another tree was with a mirage of colorful leaves). We trooped through different areas of campus, enjoying the crispy fall air, often while I complained about being cold despite my hat + scarf + wool coat + boots + gloves. You meanwhile would grunt with your hands in the coat pockets, but leaving the scarf loosely billowing and never any hat. One of our friends once joked that if a leaf naturally drifted and fell on you, it meant good luck. We sometimes ran along, hoping a drifting leaf would land on us.
Then there was the Fall you took me to Amish land. You always said it was beautiful in the country, and my goodness it sure was during that time. We picked the perfect weekend. Green grass was lush across the hilly fields and acres of trees in all varying colors of red, yellow, orange was along the horizon as far as I could see. We walked through the nearby forest trails and it was the most picturesque ever, including the single-lane, covered bridge. The trees were majestic and tall, sparkling in the sunlight with their changing colors. I really couldn’t believe how nature was able to produce such vibrant colors. A single leaf would have a color splash of everything, completely capturing the moment of a changing nature. I loved every bit of it, and you humored me by putting up with my constant wonderous commentary about the colors and stopping to take a photo every 3 seconds.
That hiking trip. Sometimes, I can’t even bear to think about it. It was an amazing trip though and I’m so glad we have that memory. It is ingrained in me the phrase “This ass climbed Mt. Buck. With leukemia.” HA. Oh how painful it is sometimes. It was the last adventure we had together before you got sick, and the sheer ignorance of it all is so strange to reflect upon. You did most of the driving, we had all the routes and pick-ups planned, regrouping with different friends along the way. Driving through complete darkness to the random Airbnb house surrounded by woods. We had so much fun. In the big house, sharing the levels/rooms, cooking up a huge breakfast each morning, waiting for the showers, peering into the darkness worried about bears. Then the hikes were gorgeous — endless golden and red and green forests covering the hills. I remember thinking how each tree looked like a fuzz ball of leaves from such a distance. It was so stunning. The second day, we decided on another hike, much steeper and quite difficult with rock climbs too. But the view was worth it, being so high up, sharing the sun and beautiful nature with my best friend. The memory in retrospect is so telling, how you struggled physically from shortness of breath, and we assumed “lack of working out.” I didn’t think it was a big deal at all; I also took breaks and went slow (granted, the others were way faster than either of us). I think you knew something was wrong though, which is why you went straight to do blood tests after this trip rather than keep procrastinating. I never saw you trip in the parking lot, where you said your knees bruised ridiculously for a seemingly small fall. Sometimes I wish I knew then, so I could have observed the signs. It’s interesting, I also never really shared the photos from this trip, like we normally would have. I have them and only look at the handful of favorite ones around this time of year. I keep them to myself like a secret treasure, a memory of this last trip together, when things were normal, when I can pretend like nothing else happened, frozen in time.
The seasons continue. It’s another Fall. It’s been three years already. Everywhere I look, the golden leaves and trees remind me of the picturesque days of yore. I walk the city, struggling to balance my conflicting emotions: the wonder gasping at the colors’ beauty and the sadness that these colors bring.
That, to me, is the meaning of Fall.
