Autumn Passages

For me, the advent of Fall carries on its wings a healthy dose of nostalgia. The ever so increasing chill in the air, the waning daylight hours, the dwindling power of the sun's rays seem to have my senses on high alert, and the slightest thing will send my mind directly to the past. The sensation is so powerful it creates a physical reaction--a mixture of yearning with an almost out of body sense that I am actually reliving these moments. I can see them, hear them, feel the happiness, the sadness, or whatever emotion went along with them. I am temporarily taken out of the present moment and sent backward on the paths of my life.

The tickets to these time travels vary--one such passport comes in the form of any song from The Last Kiss soundtrack. I listened to the CD over and over again during the Fall of 2006 when I was rehearsing for the show See Rock City. I have mentioned this before--the show that rekindled my passion for the stage and started me on my current path. As I walk along the streets of Georgetown listening to my ipod, should any song from The Last Kiss fill my ears I see and feel nothing but scenes from the lovely, challenging, and beautiful few months during which I rehearsed and performed this play. I am wearing my comfy pants, Ugg boots and a cozy scarf, entering into the sweetly lit rehearsal space, surrounded by the cozy set and the warm faces of my fellow cast and director. My character shoes are on my feet, my hair is done in the beloved forties style curls, my costar Matt and I wait breathlessly backstage for our entrance. The spotlight is on me as I am lost in a monologue that touched me every time I performed it. I am slightly shivering as I get into my car and drive over to the Cranford Inn to celebrate another show with my cast mates and audience members. And filling the car are the sweet, flowing sounds of Rufus Wainright, Schulyer Fisk, Josh Radin, Imogen Heap. This was a time when sadness still threatened to take over my life, but with the help of See Rock City and these songs I kept afloat in a softly somber state, punctuated with brightness. This was my time of healing.

Sometimes, a simple fall breeze will gust its way toward me, and as I pull my "in between" jacket closer, I am brought back to the classic fall benchmark--returning to school. I can smell the bus, the sweet, plastic-y smell of new school supplies, the way your new classrooms were slightly foreign and how odd it seemed that in a few months they would be so familiar, that languid but expectant smell in the hallway...like they were tired from the summer's idleness but knew they would once again be occupied. The excitement of going to your classes and seeing what other students were there, and the subsequent dread when the reality of a semester's work sets in. Friday afternoons in the fall bring me to the Wootton football field, where my friends and I have gathered for no other reason then,well, it's just what everyone does. Our school had a brand of understated school spirit--it was not so overstated as to be labelled cheesy or corny, but rather we pulled it off with a charming sort of ennui that translated to just a pure and simple, "hey, we like it here." That feeling reverberated in the sounds of the marching band, the cold of the bleachers, the wave of the pom-poms. This was our high school experience--and although we were too naive or too cool to admit it, somewhere inside we knew we'd look back and appreciate the sort of all-American, small town feel it had.

A sunny Saturday afternoon in October will bring me to the many pumpkin patches that my family traversed over the years. There are babies in cozy onesies, toddlers in sweatshirts, Uncles chewing on hay and making us laugh. The sun is setting over the fields, pumpkin seeds litter the ground. Aunts are holding babies, picking out small pumpkins to match them. We are smiling in front of the days bounty, awash in the freshness of the landscape and the crisp air. The light reflects in our hair as we head to the cars, awaiting the warmth and the aromas of the house that will receive us after our exursion, where we will retreat for the rest of the evening and enjoy the warmth of the fire laced with a cold filter of outside air from a screen window.

I have always found that as one season nears its end, I am happy to embrace the onset of the next. The aspects unique to each--the clothes, the events, the holidays--it all serves to define and color each season for me. Fall is for me a calming from the summer, a quieting of the world--but not a silence, more of a joyful hum--a freshness in the lungs. It blows open the windows of the past and highlights them, lacing them ever deeper in your heart.