Autumn
Monday, September 20th, 2004I was just getting into my car at the supermarket. It was dark, the orange glow of the streetlights contrasting with the cooler tone from the light in the car. I put down the heavy shopping bags in the passenger seat, and paused a moment with the door still open. A gust of wind blew through, cutting through my jumper. I watched as it caught the hair of a lady pushing her trolley along. I could hear the trees rustling, swaying in the breeze.
And I knew what the wind meant.
It meant that summer had left. Soon, I wouldn’t awake to the warm smell of a fresh summer morning, rather to the crisp, moist aroma of dry leaves lying on the street.
I thought of a movie, where at the end the heroine delivers a monologue about moving on, about the future as a highway. I thought about times I’d lain outside, staring at the stars. I thought about a time when I’d stood in the rain and held someone I loved. I thought about the dusty smell of africa and about the unearthly midnight sun in the arctic.
I thought about arriving at university. I thought about how far I’d come since then. How much I’d changed, and how much the world had changed with me. I thought about all the eager young children who are about to start at university, thinking they’re adults now. I remembered how I’d felt the same, all those years ago.
Around me, people were rushing, going about their lives, putting shopping away, returning trolleys, talking to each other, listening to the radio.
And I closed my car’s door, and drove home.
To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour
William Blake

