The last rays of the summer sun dissipate into the crisp, cool, air of the autumn breeze. That hopeful frivolity of summer has since passed, the vivacity of those promising days long since faded. It’s all gone in the blink of an eye; we never truly had anything more than that anyway. Besides what could we ever really do about it? After all, we’ve already resigned ourselves to the coming winter, bracing ourselves against the cold, harsh, bitterness of those long, barren months.
It’s so hard to get a grip on it all. All the doing and going, the passing of time, the dwindling flicker of this thing called life. I don’t know what it is we’re looking for; and, the older I get, the more I’m convinced that no one really does. We’re all caught up in the day to day, it’s practically impossible not to be. There’s never any time for reflection, never time for any sort of convalescence; and, before we know it, it’s October again; winter fast approaching, that deep chill settling itself into our bones, the depths of our souls.
Our ships set sail so long ago, leaving us to struggle; tossed about, subject to the whims of the callous sea; trying with all our strength to catch up, to grab hold, to pull ourselves out of the swirling depths. But it’s all far too much for us; we were always just a few too many steps behind, always a little too late.
But with time, and the wisdom that most certainly comes with it, we may finally realize that we never had a chance at all. Ah yes, the game was fixed; it must have been. Or perhaps there was never even a game at all. No winners, no losers, just actors. For what are we ever but actors? Even living at its very best is nothing more than a good ruse; a performer who is especially good at his trade, but still left to make it all up as he goes along.
Now the burden of old age is quickly approaching; and with it the frailty, the hollow emptiness, the realization that our best days are far behind. It all passes so quickly, and we find ourselves thrust into October again, dreading the cold, harsh, hollowness of that ever-looming winter. But then, what more can we do than sit back, trying to enjoy the fading light of these October days; to tell ourselves its not so bad really, for surely it could be much worse. After all, we can always cling to the fleeting hope that summer will one day again be back, that the chill cannot possibly last forever. So hope and will and cling for all its worth, and perhaps, someday, you’ll again find yourself enjoying the cool, crisp breeze of an October day.
