The dwindling continues...

When crunchy leaves are lying on the ground, pretty but dead, and wondering what happened to their old grand view to which they had become accustomed, I like to shuffle through them. I don't bother to pick up my feet because I like the swishing soundtrack it plays for me while on the way to my destination. That noise indicates that fall is past it's prime. Those leaves have served their purpose, no longer green buds with a future of sunny days and thunderstorms ahead of them. They're now the indicators and mascots of the cycle of life and darkness. Literally and figuratively. Fall is no longer the crisp and refreshing new kid, giving way to a long awaited break from sticky days. It's on it's way out of the house to make room for winter. Winter has been away but is now home and needs a place to stay. it's first night on the town is a wild one. 

Sips of whiskey warm the throat on the way down. 

Smiles become looser, more flirtatious. That brown liquor makes the heat migrate all over, outwards, all directions really. 

Lips open easier. 

Whiskey wanting to overstay it's welcome, but makes friends with the music. 

Glances, caresses. Let's dance. 

Or stumble. Laugh until we fall down. Stand in front of me, your body warms me more, 

entertaining thoughts that I know better than to talk myself into. 

We're entertaining a crowd, but wait, no one is watching. 

Only my mind's eye, taking snapshots of the night, and leaves, and smoke, and liquor

Mental pictures to serve as souvenirs, 

no regrets about them. 

Of your soft yielding body against mine.

I'll drink to that~

Welcome Winter.

Don't you love those days?

I was standing outside tonight chilled to the bone by a breeze of the first genuine fall night in the south. It was dusk, the sun had settled steadily while I was walking my dog against the backdrop of  a deep violet sky. I love fall nights before winter depression moves in on the sly. It's my favorite season and Halloween my favorite holiday (holiday?) for reasons I can't quite explain. I think there's a deeper reason for my love of spooky and horror, but I haven't delved into that yet. Sounds like an issue for my therapist. Nah, she's got more things to deal with than figuring out my love for Halloween, as do I. 

After it's over though, my brain backfires after weeks of planning Halloween costumes, themes, baking. A buildup, crescendo, and quick descent. It gives way to trying to live up to Christmas expectations (always unattainable) and frigid cold that is not Hallmark Channel romantic (read: BULLSHIT). No, not for me anyway. Maybe it's because I have no interest in sipping cocoa and ice skating. For me it's short days, depression, leaves twirling off trees, cycle of life, a "sunrise, sunset" frame of mind. Compounding this pending inescapable melancholy is the sad state of affairs that I am finding everyone in. Who is "everyone?" I am always fascinated by what people mean when they say that. So for that reason, I'll specify. For me, right now, and for the purposes of telling tales of turmoil, my "everyone" includes several close friends, my parents, sister and grandparents. The inclusion of so many leads me to believe that everyone is in some sort of pain, in the midst of change, and being dealt cards of sadness by Life working in some sort of twisted (even more so than in reality from what I've been told) card table in Vegas. Or Atlantic City. Yes, most definitely, LIFE would work in Atlantic City. I've been there. It's the gilded city. Looks shiny on the outside but underneath the faux golden veneer it's sad, tacky, but worth visiting just to say you've been there. 

So know this; life is hard for everyone. Love what you love and enjoy what you can when you can. You will suffer and you will see those you love suffer. So for that reason, when Halloween is over this year, when the trees are bare, and sunlight strains to filter rays through the occasional snow cloud, I'm going to sip bourbon instead of cocoa, I will accept change in my life and the lives of others, no matter how painful. Do I have a choice? I do not. As my dad says; "I'm just happy to be here."