A sound you are familiar with, so very familiar, yet you dread with all your heart, every fiber of your being. You watch October sky from your window, the sun sliding and falling away, orange to pink to black. It takes a few minutes to disappear, and in those minutes you study the changing season from your window. The trees are dying, leaves losing color and breaking away because everything dies in Autumn. It’s all a sea of browns and yellows, oranges and red, death and decay. Sights you wish would go unseen, sounds you wish would go unheard.
Crunch and break.
Can you hear it? Of course you can, but you wish you couldn’t.
The sounds of leaves rubbing against one another in the breeze and falling, falling, spiraling down to the ground where thoughtless feet crush crush crush. You know those sounds; the sounds of Autumn—the one season you wish every year would not come, that time would stand still and leave you stranded, suspended.
But it never does stand still. Time is too cruel a villain.
Autumn always comes, dutifully, every year, mocking. Dragging in its wake memories you no longer wish to see, to hear, to smell, to touch. Memories you wish would just float away on the autumn breeze into winter and never return, but they always do. They always do.
Can you hear it? Of course you can.
Like a symphony in your mind it plays, round and round, an orchestra for a hundred playing only for you.
Mommy! Mommy! Help me, Mommy!
But you can’t. You are too late and she is gone, lost. She is forever Lucy in the Sky where you can no longer reach her. You can see her, smell her, touch her, hear
her, but it’s never real, never and never.
No matter how painfully you yearn, it’s never real.
Can you hear it?
The seasons are changing, green becoming brown. What was once beautiful is dead, just like your little girl, your Lucy in the Sky. The seasons shift and alter around you like a kaleidoscope of color and lack thereof, but you remain untouched, unchanged, forever the same, and all Autumn brings is pain.
Crunch and break.