On the beaches of Montego Bay in Jamaica, I have forgotten that it’s December. While I read Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast, which is about his early days in Paris, following World War I, the balmy tropical weather, the pitter patter of the waves and the aqua sea, take the mind to a sleepy lull, where nothing else exists,but calmness.
The autumn that I so loved, just a few days back, exists only in traces, in the pumpkin flavored delicacies, that my Caribbean hosts are trying to infuse into their spread, to entertain their American guests. In sharp contrast to their endeavors, I believe nobody visiting from that part, wants to be reminded, that they have to return to winter and harsh weather. Everything else is tropical, from mangoes to star fruit to custard apples to jerk everything.
Why does my heart, that beats with every leaf of autumn, coloring up with them,swirling through the winds with them, not miss it? I wonder?
To people who know me professionally, I am a numbers and percentages, facts and figures kind of girl. But lo behold, my home is filled with books, that are filled with dry leaves, from every autumn, since I stepped into the beautiful continent. Pull one out and you will have an entire fall of your own. Spring and Summer are great, but it is Autumn that steals your heart. Everyone’s heart, unless one is heartless, I guess. Every fall, as the many colors throb through the veins of the leaves, my heart throbs into variegated colors with them. And it breaks with them, every time each one severes itself from its source of sustenance, the tree. How did the creator make something so beautiful?How could he break it? But only to revive again? I wonder! After all,I guess I miss them!!
The autumn that I so loved, just a few days back, exists only in traces, in the pumpkin flavored delicacies, that my Caribbean hosts are trying to infuse into their spread, to entertain their American guests. In sharp contrast to their endeavors, I believe nobody visiting from that part, wants to be reminded, that they have to return to winter and harsh weather. Everything else is tropical, from mangoes to star fruit to custard apples to jerk everything.
Why does my heart, that beats with every leaf of autumn, coloring up with them,swirling through the winds with them, not miss it? I wonder?
To people who know me professionally, I am a numbers and percentages, facts and figures kind of girl. But lo behold, my home is filled with books, that are filled with dry leaves, from every autumn, since I stepped into the beautiful continent. Pull one out and you will have an entire fall of your own. Spring and Summer are great, but it is Autumn that steals your heart. Everyone’s heart, unless one is heartless, I guess. Every fall, as the many colors throb through the veins of the leaves, my heart throbs into variegated colors with them. And it breaks with them, every time each one severes itself from its source of sustenance, the tree. How did the creator make something so beautiful?How could he break it? But only to revive again? I wonder! After all,I guess I miss them!!
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