Autumn
I can’t remember summer anymore. And I can’t imagine its return. Blazing, humid heat. Lush green trees. Peaches.
I’m spending a lot of time researching sunlamps and the best brands of vitamin D. I bought a new jacket, unscrewed hoses, and changed air filters. Costco had huge boxes of gloves at the front entrance. I’m sure I have gloves somewhere but I put a pair in the cart just in case.
A longtime patient came into my office last Thursday. He’s every bit of eighty-nine. Thin, unsteady even with a walker, his voice fainter than I remember, his eyes more sunken, he tells me he had fallen a few months ago and is now in assisted living. He had lost his wife in 2018 and never recovered, but even before that he wasn’t much of a talker, would let his wife fill me in on his health. Today, cancer was the least of his problems. Thursday was likely the last time I’ll ever see him. Ordinarily I would focus on his weight. On drinking some Ensure. On splurging on french fries and ice cream. On trying to stay active physically and mentally. But last Thursday we just talked about the nice weather. The clear sun and the pretty leaves. I could see how tired he was. I was as present as I could be with him, taking him in, remembering in real time his voice and smile and slow movements. A Polaroid moment.
After he left, and as I was driving home, I thought about him more. About how I should have taken him next door to Smiths for a cup of coffee and a slice of fruit pie.
My mom is much younger than that patient but now repeats herself. She is forever trying to get out of the wind and into the sun. It’s warm right here. Isn’t the sun nice? Oh, that wind is cold. Do you want some tea?
My mom is only twenty-one years older than I am. Twenty-one years ago I was about the same as I am now. Same kids. Same job. What will I be in twenty-one years? She’s alarmingly nice now. Less argumentative. But has no memory of my childhood. I had tea with her last week. And a cookie that she had made. I need to take her for a slice of pie sometime soon.
I can’t remember spring anymore. And I can’t imagine its return. The forsythia and lilac. Fresh lettuce and lengthening days.
But autumn has its own beauty. And today it’s all we have.