Free Falling

The second half of the year always makes me restless.

For the past 7 years I always attributed it to the rapidly changing weather - especially post July. When the hot summer orange sunsets in Atlanta would slowly blurr into crisp cold October evenings adorned with a shower of leaves and then slowly make way for the bitter grey month of November,I would be waiting to be rescued once again by the warmth of christmas lights and occasionally gentle snowflakes.

I'd spend the first half of the year planning and running around ..but post October, it was time for fireplaces, warm scarves, coffee with close friends and much of retrospection, reading and writing. Times when I'd lie in bed on nights twice as starry as this and listen to the howling wind and wonder what change it was going to bring.



I wish I could be dramatic and say that it was hearbreak ..but truth be told, it was Fall that made a writer out of me.

Maybe there wasn't much to do those few bleak months that I'd spend alone ..wandering through the streets of my memories. Or maybe peppermint mocha had some kind of an artistic aphrodisiac ..or maybe writing was the only way I could slow down the fleeting time and hold on to the quickly waning year. A million different reasons as usual. No single version of the truth.

I'd like to think that like all times - it was times of hardship and solitude that stirred the creative instincts but then again, there were times when even the dripping ice outside my porch has a method to it and the crisp almost sharp edge that the turquoise sky had on Sunday mornings in December seemed vaguely comforting.

Fall. Bold, Beautiful, Moving. With is bright wardrobe to the tunes of a million gusts of strong west wind. A symphony of change that made me yearn for the familiar and hold on to it with a passion that sometimes even surprised me.

This year - In India, its a stunning change.
Everyday has kinda looked the same weather wise. No Change. The sun shines dutifully each day and the few hours of dark and twilight seem to be too short. Someone once said that there was no such thing as bad weather - it was just several different types of good weather.

But more often than not, I find that the internal clocks inside my head do not have to coincide with whats going on in the solar system. Then even when it rains - my soul is parched and there is something like too much sunshine. Weather, I carry inside my heart.
and so even though the year has started its slow descent, I think winter this year for me, inside my mind has already passed.
Right now Right here, its springtime in September and I am running barefoot in a field full of sunny daisies.
Thank God I have enough.