Oct 11, 2018 Autumn
I’ve always known that I would write a book someday. I knew that eventually a story would find me and the inspiration would come. While cleaning out some storage items I came across a box full of my grandmother’s diplomas, pictures, and journals. I began to read her story that started with “who knows how many pages I’ll fill” when I felt her story fall into my lap. I knew I wanted to write a piece of fiction based on her character and life.
I can’t relate to her life except that she was once here and now I am here. Her awkwardness and struggles aren’t mine and will never be mine but hearing her story broke me. Sometimes someone else’s story, self worth, and guilt can look you straight in the eyes and break you. You break knowing they’ve already broken.
Broken then mended.
It’s Autumn and ironically I came across a school essay my grandmother wrote on October 16th, 1941 for English 4th Period. She was 17 years old. WWII was in full force and little did she know that in just a few short years she would be joining it as a cadet nurse. I think a part of the essay is worth sharing in honor of this season where the cold climbs it way up each tree urging both birds and leaves to take flight.
Some love it because of the big, full, harvest moon which is so widely known for its influence on lovers. You might say that it’s mellowness prepares the way for our June marriages. At any rate, it’s light shines down and seems to hold everyone under it’s magic spell.
I think I love it because it is Autumn, the season that is easy going and doesn’t care much what a person thinks of it.