The Autumn

The Autumn 

If you ask somebody about their favourite time of the year they’d give you all sorts of answers some would say its summers- when everything is nice and warm, they love it because of sweet ice creams, beautiful suntans and pool parties with lemonade; while some would say its winters -well in all fairness who wouldn’t like winter? Diwali, Christmas, Hanukah, New Year, hot chocolate, Chocó chip and resin cookies! What’s not to love!; there are still some others who’d would say it’s monsoons- oh yes now isn’t it just the perfectly romantic season? And of course there isn’t a single homo sapien who doesn’t adores spring, but only the rarest of the soul would say they love autumn. You see most people don’t particularly like the autumn season, I think they don’t seem to like how nature transforms itself this time of the year. People don’t like how the mossy & emerald greens and flowery pinks, reds, lavender and blues suddenly turn into various hues of orange, yellow and brown. Now, one could argue that may be they just don’t like the fact that everything seems to be dying this time around with the trees spreading a thick carpet of decomposing bright yellow and orange leaves on the earth and all the animals preparing themselves to go into hibernation. The life seems to slow down this time of the year. May be people don’t like autumn because it reminds them of the fragility of everything, how everything that once began must eventually come to an end completing the full circle of life, even the trees - the life force of earth - cannot escape it and no matter how many scientific advancements we have made there is still nothing we can do to about it but patiently wait for it to pass and next spring to come to bring everything back to life, you see that’s the thing about people they don’t like to be reminded that there is something much bigger and powerful than them which they cannot control. 
But I totally completely utterly love autumn; I always have since I was little kid. My grandfather and I would go to the park near our house and play for hours. When I'd eventually get tired we’d just sit there looking at the fallen leaves or staring at the clouds.  We'd talk about everything and yet nothing in particular. I'd often shower him million questions like why leaves suddenly change colours; my gramps somehow never got sick of my questions and always lovingly answered. He'd  tell me it’s because he had asked a magician to put a spell on them to change into my favourite colour. We’d laugh and play and go home no sooner than dusk eating Chocó chip ice creams. I loved the fall colours and the park.  My age was still in single digits back then. I was  living in my tiny little imaginary bubble thinking nothing would ever change.That's the magic of childhood everything seems magical. Even the change of seasons. 
If only we'd learn to see magic in our lives when we grow up and not suffocate our inner child to death. If only we'd find joy in the little things and not waste a lifetime to catch the elusive notion of happiness much like a child trying to catch a butterfly. Wouldn't we all be happy? If only.