Fall hit me hard this year. It was breathtakingly beautiful, with the trees and that. One day they were touched by a spark and over the month of October we watched them ignite, leaping from green to red or orange, the change spreading to the surrounding leaves, and now, in mid-November, some smoulder and glow, but the bare branches are there, too.
Along a street I travel daily there has been a remarkable range of orange, amber and amethyst. This leads me to wonder if people could be categorized into those who like color or those who like pattern. Would I exchange paisley for a certain shade, or is it not the shade but the combinations of colors that I like, and why does a color suddenly strike you as perfect and exciting? And what about people who like texture?
October was Breast Cancer/Women’s Health Awareness Month, and also the month when I finally got around to having a mammogram. As I wait for the technician in my paper cardigan I think this is how it begins, starting off with the happy talk, and then an awkward pause when they spot something worrying and your life flips. Fortunately, this was a non-event for me. I left with party favors, a sachet of pink mints and a little purse with the name of the hospital on it.
And October was the month we finally sorted out our American wills, including the living wills. More questions, all hypothetical, about mortality.
p.s. We are all going to die
A story on NPR about people in late middle age facing their mortality. Man interviewed expresses intention to continue doing everything right in order to stay fit, live to be old and “die healthy.” This provokes lots of “stupid yuppie” comments on blogs.
With Halloween, come the lights. With the onset of winter comes the retail cold, cough and flu season. I succumb to bottles of own-brand NyQuil (Night Nurse) and DayQuil (Day Nurse) at Rite-Aid while my husband returns from Costco with cough drops. We need more lights for the deck to shine against the silent nights and carry us over until trees are reloaded for another round.