Saturday, 17 September 2011

Change of season

Three nights ago I awoke, sweating, the oppressive humidity clinging to me even after I had thrown off the blankets.  I staggered, half-asleep, to crack open the window, the cool air recalling distant days of dragging blankets off my bed to make a soft nest where I could lie in front of the fan, gaining enough reprieve from the heat to drift back to sleep.  It was the heat of summer, of childhood.

The following night I fell asleep to the sound of rain, falling gently but steadily, washing everything away - the humidity, the stress, the loneliness - cleaning the palette for a fresh start.  I awoke next morning to the bluster of the winds of change as they blew a new world in through my windows.

This morning I awoke shivering, clutching the blankets closer and seeking warmth in the forgetfulness of sleep.  I was forced to give in, closing the windows again, and pulling on a fall sweater to run some morning errands.  Living my grown-up life in my grown-up clothes, I thought with a sigh of the childhood heat, regretting, as always, the reality of autumn.


Bob D. said...

Lovely piece of writing!

Kim said...

This constant switching, it's enough to drive you mad. But I'll be wishing for it soon enough once the snow starts.

It's good to see you again. I hope your summer was full of good things.