October 6, 2019
FALL WOOD
I don’t know how it happened, but it has happened.
To us. We had nothing to do with it. Evolution has played a dirty trick on us
sentient beings (the ones on two legs with opposable thumbs and a smattering of
Neanderthal genes). She has reversed the natural order on a whim. When we’re
young, time seems endless. It is endless. Was endless. What did we know? Now, someone please explain to me in detail the point of speeding it up as we grow older? You can’t. No point. Absolutely
arbitrary. Mean spirited. But there it is. Time rockets by, like you’re always rushing through
the subway station, up and down, people jigging, jogging, pushing for the
train, rushing, running, and there it goes, a cannon ball just out of sprint
range. You’ve been butt-ended, but, you know, keep on keepin’ on ‘cause y’gotta
get there, right? That’s how fast time seems to go when you know better. Wasn’t
it just April? Where have I been? What the hell just happened? Did I cross the
finish line? I won? Really?
That’s what it feels like.
Hunting season was what started all this
because suddenly it’s October and the firebushes are bright red. The trees aren’t all bare, but soon to be and
bare enough to catch sight of the creatures that live here with us, their
terms, not ours. I haven’t seen the bear lately, although enough sign tells me he’s back
there, but dozens of wild turkey, mostly small flocks and some singles, with those tiny heads and long, stringy beards, and a few mornings ago, an eight-point buck, a six
pointer, and a large spike were eating granny apples under the tree out back our
house, not thirty yards, mystical creatures with racks grown graceful, even whimsical, yet with surprising heft. Rut was still a few days away. Wind whispered over the leaves. Some skittered. That sight! Imagine holding a rock
from another solar system in your hands. Imagine swimming in the open sea with a white whale.
Imagine watching the one you love undress in moonlight.
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