(If it’s not too bold, may I say, sweet November?)
On this, your last day with us I just wanted to take a moment to say thank you. Honestly, wow. Not to put you in a box or anything, or to suggest you are a one-trick pony of leaves dropping and skies curdling gray– but seriously, who knew?
Who knew you had such temperatures inside you? Days upon days upon days– right up until today of warm, easy mornings and soft afternoons. I write to you in jeans and a t-shirt which along with a pair of sneakers and a cotton cardigan is all that I wore this morning on our little walk together.
I’d also like to take this moment to thank the WPA.
November, I know this isn’t really specific to you, but if you don’t mind sharing the dias for a minute– because this lovely park where the dogs and I walk— this lovely, lovely park that has gentle trails and sits above the river and is hugged tight by a half-moon of moss-covered stone walls that the people of WPA built. Well, I just want to give them some props– making something of beauty during a time of terrible stress and deprivation– a place of beauty that survives to this day– generations later. I love that kind of visioning.
Don’t think I don’t know you are a bad ass. Sure, lots of people might assume you’re like the dirge coming around the corner on a breeze kicking up a swirl of dead leaves, but I know better. I know you secretly let your freak flag fly.