Seasons

For the writing group I facilitate, our "assignment" this time around was to write anything we liked, in any genre, with the theme of "seasons." Since we discussed this writing assignment I've had these lyrics from sometime in the mid to late 80s rolling around in my head:

Seasons change, people change.

I thought it was The Bangles but it turned out to be Exposé.

Fall has always been my favorite season. I can see everything in my head that I want to say to describe why, but can't quite find the right words because everything seems to be stored in a succession of images.

Most of my favorite fall images and memories and scenes are from a place I used to live - New York.

Leaves in brilliant fiery colors in Central Park, children running through a field laughing. A palette of primary color pastels invoked in a drawing of trees bought from a vendor near the steps of the Met. Eating soup in a cafe with my dad when I went to check out my future school. A cafe that would later turn into a gray, soulless computer store. Watching a cute guy make on a pay phone in that cafe slowly turn around until he was totally facing me. (This was in the days when cell
phones cost $1,000 and weighed a couple of pounds.)

Buying a pea coat at Bloomingdales and wearing a rust colored shirt and thinking how free I would feel if I were to come and live here. Thinking how happy I would be.