An Autumn Still

Autumn nestled itself into late September. The air was crisp, cooling off the remnants of summer's heat. All around, consumerism marketed seasonal delicacies to further one's experience of the falling leaves and change in seasons.

I had a fondness for autumn. The season was the embodiment of change. Trees released the once green leaves in preparation for winter; birds recognized the time to leave in hopes of warmth down South. Autumn brought forth the reminder: change is the only constant in life.

The impermanence of the environment was a reminder that nothing ever stayed the same. Often times, I found that people tended to search for consistency; living in the fallacy that whoever they were in a single moment was who they would remain for a lifetime. I did not have the luxury of knowing much stability in my life. I moved around quite a bit growing up regardless I remained mostly in one state.

At this particular time in life, I was consistently swamped with school. I drowned in the obligations that I needed to overwork myself to succeed. The anxiety built up too closely to burn out than in previous years. The most concerning part was this month was only the first of a very long senior year. I needed a break — an escape, something to draw me out of the constant working cycle. The overwhelming stress of school on top of not knowing whether my grandfather would pass while I was the only one not with everyone else down South ate me up inside. Worried loomed each time my phone buzzed with a notification from the Family Alerts group chat updating about his condition.

On the 27th, my mom beamed with excitement. She remarked that she had a surprise. The car contained: two small suitcases of clothes, a bag with assorted snacks, and a bag of personal items. At first, I was hesitant with the deadlines that hung above me, I decided to put away the thought of work.

Surprises and I had a peculiar relationship. When I was younger, they filled me with a mix of dread and anticipation. I was the person who had to know everything going on so I had the ability to prepare myself for any outcome. With this trip, the bundle of nerves settled in my stomach, and I indulged myself in the unknown bliss. This decision brought upon a new kind of feeling. A release of tension in my muscles which sighed a slight relief. I trusted my mother's impulse and decision-making, leaving the worries at my cluttered desk.

We drove through the night heading North. Faint-colored trees dusted with an indigo blue and the yellow beams of the car's headlights followed paved windy roads. The melodies from my ~ autumn aesthetics ~ playlist on the stereo enthralled us with peace. I relented to my curiosity. The destination was Andover, New York. Overhead, the stars welcomed us to a serene bed and breakfast.

We rose like slow dawn.  There were leftover breakfast goods from the kind patrons and warm coffee, which we enjoyed outside on the front porch. Here, the trees quilted patches of reds, oranges, yellows, and browns with strewed green. I took out my sketchbook and lost myself in capturing the scene with graphite.

Following the rest of the day, we impulsively choose to travel North. Each decision was on a whim. The first destination landed us at a Family-Owned Apple Orchard where we feasted upon the quintessential autumn treats of apple cider and apple cider donuts. We found that we were only another two hours from the United States side of Niagara Falls. Needless to say, I enjoyed a classic New York cheese pizza beholden to the steady rumble of white waves.

Stray rays of the warm orange sun glistened along the cascading falls. I gazed in awe and reverence as the time corresponded with the rushing water. Similar to several of the tourists there, I attempted to secure the moment before it slipped away from me. A photograph captured a still of the falls — a still of serenity and joy.

The water still fell regardless of the portrait taken. The leaves soon after fell towards the Earth. What remained was the constant presence of the placid living. The stability of tranquility wrapped my heart in a gentle warmth; a whisper calming a restless vitality. My experience of life did not have to be endless hours of productivity to provide some sense of meaning. Sometimes, more often than not, a moment grounded in thoughtful gratitude provided more satisfaction than any work assignment ever did.

The fateful message rang early two mornings later. I choose to value life in the face of death. A sad smile adorned my father's face as I asked to travel there. I joined the birds and flew South. I found the warmth of my loved ones against the strife of grief. On the second of October, my grandfather's breath stilled. What remained was the reminder that life is only constant for the living. I could only hope that his life continued beyond the photographs and the material items we had left of him.