When I was a child autumn wasn’t just a change of seasons when green turned yellow and red and the light summer clothes were replaced with warm pullovers and jackets. It meant the end of holidays and the beginning of a new school year. That sucked. I didn’t hate school, but wasn’t in love with it either as it meant routines I was obliged to follow, which were mostly sitting in a boring classroom, drilling lessons at home and watching my mom doing my younger brother’s homework for him because, a tricky little gangster, he proved that he would never do it himself.
Today autumn is a relief for me. Tired of the burning summer heat I plunge into a hug of refreshing cool air and feel free from the need to look for a shadow side of the street. I don’t have to go to school anymore, which is quite comforting, too, and my younger brother grew up and needs no guardianship even though he still doesn’t demonstrate enthusiasm for following standard routines. Obviously, some things don’t change just because it’s another season.
And the truth is that changes, whether you want them or not, don’t know schedules; they come to you just like that, without any notice, not looking at the calendar, they come and you have to greet them even when you are happy with your routines and would prefer to stick to their simple repetitive pattern. Like the autumn leaves that turn red and yellow, like the kids putting on their uniform, we have no choice, we do what we are obliged to do just because the time came and told us so. And this rule doesn’t alter, ever, no matter what season it is.