Monday

“Dear Autumn”, by Dwayne Campbell

Dear Autumn:

When I first met you a few years ago, I was truly in love with you, but our honeymoon came to an abrupt end when I experienced your inconsistent ways. There are still so many things that I admire about you, but the reality is that the infatuation stage died with the short-lived relationship that I had with your hot-tempered and sassy sister, Summer. These days, I argue at you every time I feel your embrace, and I’m sick of this type of affair.

I was actually just thinking of you, and the aesthetic qualities that you would want me to attribute to your season- the sadness of fall. One of my friends is now on his way driving to Maine from Boston (you have clearly wooed him into your web); while many others had driven earlier through Connecticut on their way to Vermont- just to see the vibrant pastures, forests and paddocks that take their last bow in their admirable rendition of the “Rainbow Impersonation” before they are put to sleep by you and your cruel sister, Winter.

Autumn, you are a concept that I will never understand. So many people around me celebrate the beauty of your trees’ fiercely blazing leaves; while I can only be anxious about the loud warning of your sister’s imminent cold ahead, and the painful reminder of the humidity and heat of Summer- a feeling that we’ve not quite gotten rid of. The spontaneity of your enigma always leaves me at two extremes (hot and cold) without warning. And the foreboding callousness of your younger sister, Winter, leaves me feeling sad, cold, trapped and drained (emotionally and physically). I sometimes feel as if it’s the conspiracy of you and your siblings against me for an offence I’m sure I didn’t commit.

I can’t seem to find that solace in our relationship, or appreciation for you when I know your sisters keep intruding in our soirée (as nuanced as it is). During your annual four-month reign, all the leaves seem to celebrate life with their vivacious colours, but only as a last rite passage. Despite this seeming bravery on these trees’ part, I see it more as, “why fight when you’re destined to a sardonic fate?” They never experience winter, because they cower in fear, hibernate, hide from it, or just be as weak as I have been in maintaining fearful reverence for this bitter grayness that your sister puts over me.

Anyway, Autumn, I really hope you enjoy your day, and all the beauty that you will create in your artistic, but deceptive monet. The truth is, your leaves are beautiful, but the features and customs surrounding your temporal splendor make you seem more like a consistent, crude and inconsiderate beast- especially when you or your younger sister adds the misery of snow- a severe beauty with a painful venom.

I’m sorry, Autumn, but we have to take a break from each other until I can better appreciate you, and the erratic nature of your family. Adieu!

Your Jamaican Guy

PS: As for the clearing of all these foliage, don’t even think of calling me, because I’m tired of clearing your mess. And as for the snow, have your sister shovel it herself! I need my space and time to rest!