Fall into Autumn

"I paint flowers so they will not die."

-Frida Kahlo

Autumn has to be my favorite season. It literally marks summer's fall and reminds us that change is inevitable and that the world forever spins round. Sometimes I think people are naturally scared of new beginnings because they are scared of letting go. But interestingly enough, what I am realizing is that how I feel about autumn is a parallel reminder to how I feel about writing and relationships.

Although autumn connotes as a change of temperature and wardrobe, I know it is much beyond that. As it gets colder, we wear thicker layers. I can still wear that tank top from the summer by adding on a scarf and a sweater. The addition of clothes does not take away from the tank top itself, rather, it emphasizes the beauty of layers. With time, I will throw more clothes on my back. My layers will only grow thicker, but my foundation will remain the same. Timeless.

Like autumn and any other season, our thoughts cycle throughout our everyday lives; they repeatedly come and go. Moments transpire into memories becoming tangible within a blink of an eye. Temperatures change and wardrobes change, but it is not a process of throwing out the old and disregarding the past. Instead, it is the process of our fated change solely relying on our permanence, allowing anything and everything anew.

Hence, why I adore and started writing in the first place. The way I see it, my writing is a canvas painting my view of the world. My thoughts, my words, whether minuscule at that moment or not, can be captured, illustrating how I felt at that very moment in my life. My thoughts, my words, which may evolve into memories, will layer onto wherever fate may take me. My words forever an artifact. 

So where there is change, there is permanence, which is why autumn is my favorite season. The colors of the leaves may change and the faces that occur in my life may differ as well, but the heat of the summer and the ghosts of the past are simply layers that have brought me to fall into autumn.

Fourteen

"Imagining the future is a kind of nostalgia."

-John Green

Fourteen is a measurement defined by a number marking a moment on a timeline.

Fourteen could be the end of middle school and the beginning of high school. Fourteen could be a truth or dare first kiss, or a first attended boy-girl party. Fourteen could be singing into your hair brush to the Jonas Brothers. Fourteen could be whatever you allow.

Fourteen measures a defining number, as it has marked a moment on my timeline that I cannot help but wonder if I ever left.

I have a giant white board calendar hanging on my wall labeled with moments inked and crossed off in jet black expo marker. At the end of every day, I cross off another day and allow time to continue ticking. I was fourteen five years ago, and while middle school and high school are over, and while I can cross off having my first kiss and attending my first boy-girl party, and lastly and without hesitation, while I can cross off singing into my hair brush to the Jonas Brothers, I cannot help but wonder if at five years later, I am still where I was at when I was fourteen. Because for me, fourteen measures beyond just a defining number as it marks an immense moment of my life, which has possibly tainted how the rest of my timeline races.

Last week, I had a dream that I was in a white space surrounded by nothing and no one else but my parents who were linked together hand-in-hand with me in the middle. They were in their late 20's and I was maybe no older than two. There I was in a white space surrounded by nothing and no one else but the three of us. While the dream is a bit hazy, I distinctly remember my mom looking down at the two year old version of myself and then looking back at present-day me and smiling. There I was at my present staring at my past.

My grandma once proclaimed that the souls of your loved ones whom have passed away can communicate with you through your dreams. That was the first dream I have ever had with my mom in it since she passed away.

As I continually analyze that dream, a steady conclusion I arrive to is that my mom wants me to reflect on how far I have made it since the very beginning. While I look back, I see how many lightyears away I have grown since my middle school, high school, truth-or-dare first kiss, first boy-girl party, and Grammy award-winning hair brush Jonas Brothers singing days.

And then I remember being fourteen, which measures a defining number that marked a moment on my timeline that I cannot help but wonder if I ever left.

But it is five years later down the road on my timeline. And with my giant white board calendar hanging on my wall labeled with moments inked and crossed off in jet black expo marker, I will continue to cross off another day at the end of every day, and allow time to continue ticking.