Autumn

It’s funny how the first smells of autumn bring back so many more memories than any other season for me. The damp sidewalks I walked when I was a boy delivering papers in my neighborhood and the smell of decomposing leaves lying in scattered piles from the wind. The little rivers that ran along the edges of the roadways that made decent places for us to build dams out of sticks, rocks and leaves. All these things rush back from that first wisp of Fall air.

I remember the sand dunes along the flats where the scrub brush grows, the dew soaking my pants as I waded my way through the small brush in search for fresh venison. There was lunch time back at the truck with my dad and my uncles, my eager ears listening in on conversations of those I worshiped. Fresh hot coffee from the old battered thermos and overstuffed sandwiches my mom had packed for our survival preceded the raiding of my uncle’s lunch boxes for cookies and cheese.

The slough behind our school was filled with ducks this time of the year, the long grasses that grew on the banks had turned brown and bent to the overflowing force of rain water. The fields were soggy and cheap sneakers protected little.

Football games began and the local stadium was full of fans, their noses red with cold. My first love and betrayal my first broken heart and losing a friend I thought I had.

Death of a young friend who let the demons convince and the broken soul of a girl who loved him, taught me a hard cold lesson of life.

Finally, love, my true love. I found her in this season and will always remember the smell and feel of the cold air and how the warmth of her lips absorbed me, and the touch of her hand and the comfort of her smile.

Now it’s autumn again and I walk my little girl down the familiar sidewalks and wait for the big yellow bus to come, my mind is filled with all these memories and the anxiousness for the first hard rains to fill the edges of my neighborhood streets with little rivers that we will dam.