Cracked bone, second spring.

Autumn brings rain, and it washes away the remnants of summer, the nosebleeds, and skinned knees.
The rain stops, and the city blooms. A wall of green with streaks of orange colour the sky. Fall comes, in her usual splendour, bringing her shades of buttercup and russet. Summer holds us in her vice-like grip, reminding us of perfect childhoods and dripping candy. Draw a noose with the rope that held up your childhood swing.
Fall comes, and you fall back into your routine of wishing there was more.

Time is a jelly, thick with regret. You move through life, dazed and hoping that you’re a character in a Donna Tartt book, where ennui is justified. No amount of Gilmore Girls reruns make you feel the way you thought you would. The montage you’re searching for is a dream. All too real, but disappearing into mist when you reach out.

Fall settles in, and we strive desperately for the sepia tones of nostalgia we are not heirs to. Chase the delights of apple picking, pumpkin spice, and Halloween. See if it fills the hollow. Drink coffee, bracing yourself for the bitterness to come, telling you of an unforgiving winter.

I know what bothers me about the fall season. It feels like change, like transition. A turned page. A chance. My mistakes, wiped clean by the scalding summer. A peace that comes with the cold air. A stillness in life, a chill that descends. Dreams are closer to reality, forgotten phantasms floating in the air. Quiet anticipation is in the air.

I leave the summers of my childhood, and they slip away all too easily. I have a long way to go before the frost sets in. I look around and try to make a memory in the autumn of my adulthood. My youth slips away, and I run from it, towards it. I’m a collection of contradictions. I cling to my youth and claw at it.

I see ghosts of my pasts, and I ache for all the people I’ve been. Green turns to gold, and I still, chase the old.

There is only peace and autumn chill. Maybe October will heal us.