Autumn's here now, y'know. She's been waiting in the wings for a year since I saw her last, and I'm reminded she was a true and great love.
"Jake," You're saying, "She's an anthropomorphic personification at best, dude..."
I love Autumn no matter what anyone says. So what if I can't see her? I can feel her, can't I? Since I was a kid, I would love it when she showed up, a breath outside my windowsill, cooling down the glass, telling me that things were changing.
The neighbors, particularly back in the innocent days of Red Hook, Dutchess County, y'know, they would burn her leaves. Said it was for clearing space, getting rid of refuse... but I'd smell the scent of her dry and earthen perfume, so sweet and sensual, and I'd view it as some sacred homage.
She'd stand out in the backyard with me, my Atumn would... we'd roll around in the grass, with my first dog, Jake (Yes, that's where I originally got the idea for my current nickname, and he was a good boy
) and those leaves would thrash about with us. We'd dive into their happy heaps sometimes, boy and dog, an unstoppable duo out to explore and excite our own dreams into existing
I would have such conversations with my dog, I'll have you know. I'd wrap my arms around his neck in a bear hug, and I'd say, "Can you see her, boy?"
Sometimes, I think that Jake said yes. "Yes, Joe, I can see her." He'd nuzzle me with that cold nose of his, and lick my face.
I loved him. I miss him now. How are you this Autumn, boy?
Years trickled by with a dastardly indifference. How many Hollow's Eves did I let fade from my grasp, for my mother wouldn't let me "dress up". And my father always had this strange dislike for the whole concept of tricks and treats and candy apples doled from a neighbor's doorstep. I have done nothing for that wondrous holiday in oh-so-long... it saddens, it really does.
I'd always wanted my first kiss to happen while leaves burned and the sun set... while winds whispered promises and a cool air cheered spontaneity in somber tones.
But no, my first kiss was in a high-school hallway. I had no idea what to do. In some ways I doubt anyone would understand, I still don't. When a body and another become one in a night-time bed, it's one thing. When lips combine it's an oath, a promise, even the most casual. For me, that's the case, at least. And it's so much more important in my mind, heart, soul, then anything the others I've known have known.
Autumn, she's a brilliant surveyor, she is. She picks her scenes for romance with a deft hand , quick wit, and iron will.
I remember standing with a girl outside, roughly two years back, and nearly leaning in to kiss her. We both turned away at the same moment, and she made a jest about bad romance movies.
What would've happened, I sometimes catch myself wondering, but counter with the idea it's better, I'm sure, to never know.
If it were supposed to happen, I'm sure Autumn would've allowed it then... for everything was perfect that day.
All Autumn days for me know their own perfections.
I found "occultism" the first time when Autumn knew the earth. Not the whacked-out witchcraft of the "stab-stab-cut, and hate the world" Variety that my bass player had choked me with for a summer and a lifetime... if what was done to me those days could be termed a sort of twisted spiritual rape, then what I found in Autumns then were days of purest love.
"I shall never leave you," I'd imagine Atumn saying, but there were always tears in her voice. I used to toil my notebooks, writing fervently and frantically... foolishly, to try and make her stay, with any spell, any ritual...
But eventually, my innocence was stolen my the forces of time and tragedy. A few loves known, quite af few more lost, and pain within the hearth called home, it worsened till something clicked.
It's Autumn's disappearing act that makes her special. It's the mystery, and the longing and the need for change.
I decided I didn't need her to stay... but I really hoped she would come back.
Every October, it seems she finds some reason to come back in. She butters the leaves until they blush. They fall from the tree, and rather than mourn, she says good luck.
I could use your luck, I could use your beauty...
But for now, to feel your temperatures on my skin again... it makes things okay.
It really, really does.
Autumn angel, whatever your name might be, please... do watch over me?
Your embrace is something I don't ever want to forget.
-----Jake Bozlinski, AKA Rem Murakai