Memory Comes When Memory's Old

I change my mind constantly.  Born on the cusp, pulled in too many directions, my mind and body and heart waver between people and places.    I write in the morning, my room letting in filtered autumn sunlight, and I think of all the things that could happen.   But I don't know what I want to happen. 

Later in the day.  My thoughts and actions become disjointed, and the clarity of an early sunny morning gives way to the muddled grey of afternoon.  Homemade blanket spread over my legs, the taste of winter on my tongue, all I want is to be warm.

The colours and smells of fall always bring me back to two separate times in my life.  The first, my second year of university.  I finally felt the attention of boys and the world was so open and new and fresh.  I can remember early mornings on the O-Train, walking to class, Morrissey crooning in my ears.  I was young and discovering so much music and art and literature for the first time.   And coffee.  I loved coffee. 

The second fall was my last year of journalism school.  I was in love, obsessed and passionate, flitting back and forth between msn chat, Myspace, my cell phone, and the piles of writing and research I needed to complete.  Graduation was near, but I was preoccupied.  He lived far away and every time I heard his voice, a shock of excitement rang through my body.  That fall I experienced heartache, panic, the death of a loved one, and the disintegration of two close friendships.  But I had love and possibility coursing through me and every setback was tainted not by extreme sadness or depression; instead, I felt that while life takes away so much, it gives and gives, and its up to us to accept this.

Late fall and early winter 2010 is now one of these times in my life.  Light snowfalls and inky nights.  The sound of my boots on the sidewalk, Fever Ray, brick, smoke, worry, and desire.  Terrifying and exciting.  Unnerving and unsettling. 

This fall I want to see as a turning point.  Change is forthcoming and there's no need to fear it.  It brings with it new people and places, smells and sounds and thoughts.  All I can do is welcome it.