I can picture him very clearly in my head. Seated outside Starbucks with a venti pumpkin spice latte clutched in his hand, his tweed blazer hugging his short frame and a cigarette dangling at his side. He didn't have to describe this scene to me to know that's how he looked. Indulging in the flavors of pumpkin pie and burning leaves is how he experiences fall. I know because my experience of fall is indulging in him.
There is an unmistakable feeling in the air when summer begins the transition to fall. The air thins out and seems to swirl around you in brief, chilly gasps. The leaves crackle and shudder on the trees and our folded arms pull our bodies tightly together. The anxiousness in the air mirrors our half-hearted reluctance to delve into a new season, as we meekly extend one hand back to catch the last rays of the summer sun and thrust the other arm steadily into a cozy jacket. I never regret the farewell of summer heat, like the former lover who dropped back into my life; I know it'll be back again.
Fall is a time of transition. In keeping with this mindset I took the opportunity to shed the platinum hair that defined my summer. My bare, brown head, now unshielded like a naked tree. When we make such drastic changes to our appearance it is only natural to expect people to notice. As I went out to the routine places this weekend, the people whom are important of course complimented the change, and those whom I actually wanted to say something said nothing. The same is true for fall. Those who are attuned to the changes notice the shifting air and falling leaves while some remain oblivious to their surroundings and focus only on themselves.
Last year I was studying abroad in London and wanted desperately for each day to last forever. Now I feel compelled to move quickly to the end of the semester and every hurdle between graduation and myself. But it is nice to slow down and appreciate the people who have grown and changed around us. The multitudes of new friends from freshman year: some of which remain quite close and shared a special meal together last Friday, the hook-ups and past regrets that haunted the bar later that night and the friends I only recently came to love who filled my weekend with more than just the prospect of future joy.
Many of you may associate fall with death. The decaying leaves and fading light seem to cast a shadow over our lives. And though I have seen some of my hopes of prospective lovers, promised friends and missed opportunities wither away in this season, it is only when these dead parts drop away that we can see what really remains alive.
Fall has a way of both concealing and revealing reality at the same time. It reminds us of what we're losing, what we've already lost and what we still are waiting for to arrive. Although we may shed different aspects of our lives each year, it is comforting to think of how we've grown.
He's still sitting outside Starbucks, sipping on his latte. He takes a long drag of his cigarette and lets the butt drop to the ground, and begins walking for his car. We began our intermittent affair almost exactly two years ago and officially ended it last spring. I never really had him; it was more of an occasional passing fancy. But like the few weeks when the leaves explode into a variety of colors before sailing from the trees, it was breathtaking when we were together. It's nice to hear "I miss you," if only once a year.
Blair Bryant's column, "Everybody does it..." appears in The Scene each Thursday.
Blair also writes a weekly sex advice column for The Eagle that appears on Mondays. E-mail your sex queries to blairbryant.nichols@gmail.com.
Answers will appear in future issues, but we'll keep your name to ourselves. Come on! Everybody does it...
