The visitor

These are days of late autumn. Of crisp, orange, cheerful foliage. Of footpaths covered in the remnants of a season on the verge of a goodbye. And even as you get ready to say adios to a time that was, spring has already moved in, unbeknownst to most of us. If you look carefully enough, there are shy buds and unapologetic green shoots, there is melting frost and there is nascent grass.

Concentric circles of warm, earthy smoke from the steeples of the cottages around the corner. Askew branches in a carefully trimmed hedge. Merrily discarded woollen booties near the school playground.  Piles of firewood outside the stone church, neatly stacked up, mocking winter.

There was an adult in the abandoned park today. On the swings, humming to himself. Next to the bright jacarandas opposite the shrivelled oak. Another instance of one season and one levithian of time merging with the other in a closed loop. Nothing stands by itself, did you know that? There are invisible bonds connecting all of us in one giant maze. The milestones you think you missed today will pass by your window again.

Spring knows she is a visitor. So she puts on her best costume and smiles her brightest and goes to every party in town from the day she arrives. After waiting around the corner for long,  autumn comes knocking in one day and tells her that she is supposed to be leaving soon. Didn’t she read the memo?  Spring leaves the packing of her bags till too late and rushes to get the bus, a profusion of her accessories scattered over the roads as a memory of the paths she once took. Those that leave us leave memories behind. Especially when they are in a hurry to get away.

And already around the corner, past the browns and the oranges and the frost and the vapour on your window-sills, down in the valley, spring is already wondering if she should walk your way again. She is a visitor, you must know this. She is not here to stay, you must know this too. You shouldn’t take it to heart though. A visitor leaves on the premise of returning.

Keep your door open, just a little bit. So you can see who left. And most importantly who is about to visit. You are more likely to have visitors when the door is ajar…


5 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Captain Nemo
    Aug 15, 2010 @ 04:59:08

    Deep and many layered but simple, as usual.


  2. scarlettletters
    Aug 15, 2010 @ 19:06:02

    🙂 Thanks.
    I re-read this post and I thought I sounded a little tipsy. I wasn’t (not when I wrote it anyway) – but yeah the seasons are whimsical, aren’t they!


  3. Rajavel
    Aug 17, 2010 @ 12:10:40

    Ahh ! to borrow from you – that was like sparkling mineral water with a dash of lemon ! Refreshing ! The imagery you are able to build is amazing.

    And about milestones passing again, its so funny ! It does happen ! When one remembers – how one stood to take a moment in, because it is never going to repeat – exactly when the moment presents itself again, one actually wants to stand a moment more, to cherish and note what was missed out the last time !


  4. scarlettletters
    Aug 23, 2010 @ 15:35:04

    Rajavel, don’t know how I missed your comment the last time – yeah, it is very true, milestones are cyclical too.


  5. Aria
    Oct 09, 2010 @ 04:01:10

    this is quintessentially Scarlett! lovely..


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