Nothing Gold Can Stay

I sat on the bus, my orange juice and Dunkin Donuts in hand, backpack at my feet, and headphones in. I cared not to see the city upon departing, so I opened a composition notebook and my Bible and began to write out Romans 5. I was attempting to prepare myself for the day ahead. Once the city and suburbs faded to open stretches of interstate lined by trees and hazy, lazy creeks, I finished up the chapter and laid all books aside and spent the next three hours enjoying the look of fall in the country.

It was glorious. The leaves were only beginning to change to shades of yellow. Some were already different shades of orange and red. For the most part, it was clusters of green trees, with a dash of color to accent the foliage. The corn was turning too, from green to yellow to brown, to harvested. The soybeans had become a burnt red color. The sky was thick with clouds, though slight rips in the dense mass exposed a brilliant blue. The sun burned only like a silvery orb through the layers of moisture above. The land rolled gently out from the interstate, unfurling in a colorful mosaic, dappled with patches of silvery, shifting mist. I noticed herons and hawks in marshes and trees. I observed a herd of cows, a few horses. My heart was at rest. I have never before so appreciated what it is to see corn at harvest-time, to see the leaves changing, to be under open skies without a skyscraper or building other than a barn or house in sight. 3 hours on the road in flat Indiana never had been so exhilerating.

I wrapped my arms around the chains and slipped my hand in my pockets. The swing swung gently as my feet dangled over the gravel. I twisted the swing to face Andrew, and dug my mocassins into the rocks, unearthing wet pebbles. Ladoga was cold and quiet, the park was deserted. Few cars drove past. Few people walked by. I felt alone with Andrew. It was overcast; I shivered despite wearing two jackets. To the south of the park, across the street, on the other side of a row of houses, I could see the tree tops forming a colorful wall, hugging the small town. I felt as if I was tucked away from the rest of the world, in a safe haven where the only reality was us. Or the lack of us. As we talked, I stared down at my lap, watching my tears fall after they rolled off my cheeks and nose, down my chin. They mingled with the misty rain drizzling down on us.