Autumn Walks

Highway 53 is a dusty old highway which stretches from St. Jacqueline Minnesota to Merriton Minnesota. Flat, fairly straight and severely lacking scenery it stayed for the most part empty. It’s only users were the usual assortment of cargo trucks, semis, and occasional, when the weather was right, and the sun had set himself roughly above the tree line in the late evening, you would see a boy. Head hunched, and often kicking a stone he would idly make his way along the side of Highway 53.
Aaron was his name, and in short words he was tall, lanky, and had short cropped blond hair. His father was a local plumber in Merriton, and in a town of roughly 2,000 people that made him Merritons only plumber. There wasn’t a soul who hadn’t had need of Mr. Turner to clear a clogged drain, replace a toilet, or install a sprinkler system. Everyone knew him, and by association knew his son. So when Mrs. Turner disappeared with Mr. Turners savings the town was of course aware.
The house seemed over flowing with comforting visitors, and John was surprised that the Fridge had yet to cave in under the growing weight of casseroles, and salads. All the people made John feel uneasy, and for the week afterwards John avoided going home. Instead, the moment the bus dropped him off from school he would sit down on a fallen tree and wait for all the other children to walk out of sight, before hiding his backpack behind the mailbox, and heading out along Highway 53.
It was Autumn, and the leaves had begun to continue on with life. Gone were the simple sunny days of summer, and now was the time for changing. Aaron loved leaves, and thought it wonderful that even though they were all the same shimmering green all summer long. The cold crisp air of the coming winter would determine the true make up of a leaf. They could be anything from golden yellow, to a sapphire red. Like a snowflake, no two were the same, and even in their deaths they seemed to find their identity.
The walked calmed Aaron, and with each passing step he, unnoticing, stood a little straighter, and walked with his head up more. The trees lining old Highway 53 were old bent, and gnarled. Many of them beeches, oaks, and maples, with the occasional fir or pine. Nearly empty of leaves they looked somewhat hollow to him. Thousands of little branches all craning for the sky. No longer burdened with leaves that would catch the wind, or hold them down. They were no longer held back and with their new found freedom could almost catch the sinking sun.
Which too was moving through his daily routine. Never altering in pace nor course. Like the old grandfather clock at the base of the stairs he ran his rounds, and never seemed to care for anything else. Aaron wondered if the Sun ever wished to go somewhere else or to see something new like he did. Didn’t he get tired of the same thing everyday. What was it worth to march through life without ever caring for something else. Every day the exactly the same without ever hoping for something. What type of life was that and Aaron suspected he knew exactly how the sun felt. For he was no longer the bright yellow orb of lunchtime, but was red and dull with the appearance of fuzziness that Aaron felt too right before going to bed. The sun sank slowly towards the horizon, and in a brilliant show of hues he slowly sunk into the night.
With the sun no longer their to keep it warm, the wind became cold and cutting. She blew on Aarons neck as he slowly made his way along the road towards home. Aaron wondered why she was so cold, when only a few hours previous she’d been so calm, and warming. He tried to pull his jacket tighter around himself and it helped some, but the wind cut right through his jeans. The closer Aaron got to home the more harder the wind blew. She seemed persistent on getting him home, and blew all the colder, sharper against his back. Aaron was walking a little bit slower than a run by the time he got to the driveway, and found his backpack half buried under some newly fallen leaves.
He made his way up the porch, and into his house. The kitchen was still covered in dishes, and he could see the dim glow of the TV on his father’s socks. He wouldn’t bother waking him, he seemed to enjoy his sleep a lot lately, and Aaron was glad he’d chosen to do that rather than drink. As quietly as possible he made his way upstairs, and into his bedroom. It was the only room that still appeared lively. The rest of the house seemed cold, and empty now. Everything seemed cold, and empty. Why did she have to go? Was it because of him? If he’d been a better boy would he still have been able to keep his mom? Without changing his clothes Aaron crawled into bed, and pulling his teddy bear out from underneath it he curled up and cried.
He didn’t know what time it was when he awoke, and he wasn’t sure what woke him. Looking around the room it appeared normal, and unchanged. Poking his head out the door he could still hear his fathers snores coming from downstairs, and it wasn’t until he pulled his head back into the room and looked out the window opposite him did he see the falling snow. The first snow fall was always an expected sign of the coming winter, and Aaron shuddered to think it would get colder. Little did he realize as he climbed into bed. That life moves in circles, and even when everything seems cold, and empty, and when it seems certain that they will get worse before the end. There will always be a Spring on move, and with it a new birth of happiness, and warmth. Such is life, and so will it always be.