November 20, 2011
The calendar is stubbornly indicating that it is November.
Every day is new, and it brings new duties, responsibilities, joys, and impressions. The memories of the past summer are reserved for long winter evenings. That’s where they belong. Except for a few short moments – for the duration of an elevator ride – when, all of a sudden, you can see tree branches before your eyes, swaying in the wind, bent down under the weight of peaches. Or, sometimes, it may seem like springtime rain is knocking on your window, and you expect the smell of fresh grass to follow.
Without even putting much effort into thinking about it you can feel an almost physical presence of the things that surrounded these warm moments.
The days have gotten much shorter, while the light is strange, and leaves too soon. It slips away from us. Hides behind the corner. In the morning, it doesn’t want to get up, and it pulls the blanket of grey clouds over itself. You can go out to High Park with your camera, as I did recently, and say firmly, several times, “I would like it to be sunny!”
The sun will appear briefly, when your walk is almost over, and you are standing in front of your door. You are about to touch the doorknob, in order to slip into the warm building. And then you feel a ray of sunlight touching your shoulder, telling you not to be upset.
It was a great summer!