.the most over-used metaphor ever.

Fall is approaching. The breeze carries a cool autumn kiss. The air, fresh and cleansing. Night crawled into the day with an eagerness that lingering summer nights lack. The city woke to a crisp morning and now lays its head upon pillows, blankets pulled tightly up under its chin and windows just slightly cracked allowing autumn air to dance in the room while it sleeps. There is something enchanting about the changing of seasons, especially from innocent and light summer into the mysterious fall (plus fall in Denver, city and mountains, is nothing short of wonderful). And not to get all metaphorical…well, let’s just get metaphorical, it’s nice when seasons change. I have this sense of change looming in my own life…and in a perfect twist of theatrical irony it happens to be at the same time that summer chooses to leave and fall emerges quietly (although, with today’s sudden drop of temperature, it pronounced it’s arrival quite bluntly).

I have to say, I’m hesitant to claim potential change out loud. It seems that once you say it, it becomes a disappearing vapor. Strangely, there really is nothing looming ahead, nothing glamorous or romantic to anticipate, nothing extravagant or astonishing taking place, minus the great change of no longer working the miserable night shift. But isn’t hope for change beautiful? Simple and energizing hope. I don’t really know where it came from and I guess I didn’t realize that it was lacking in my heart. Hope caught me by surprise. I won’t be so bold as to say that I’ve known hopelessness, but hope has seemed very far off before and searching for that distant, glimmering light has been complicated and challenging. This is all so vague, I realize, but listen to Sigur Rose ( ) untitled #3 and you’ll understand. Something has emerged and it’s just nice. It’s a weighty thought, one which I hope to always carry , of those who live in utter hopelessness every day…no matter which season is coming and which is waving a slow good-bye.