Seasons of My Life

There is much to remember in this short-lived life of mine. I close my eyes, breathe deeply and see myself young. I am bundled up, making snow angels. My feet are cold and my fingers wet beneath my gloves. There is a brother to my left and a friend to my right. We giggle as the snow dust tickles out noses and turns our eyes moist.

I am taller now, raking leaves. I rake, rake, rake, then leap! Headfirst I topple to the ground, cushioned by the red and yellow fingers of the maple leaves. It is soft and smells of the earth. It is a smell I remember even now.

There is a pumpkin sitting on the kitchen table ... in peaceful solitude it stands, waiting it's time. It is to become my new friend Jack. I think the pumpkin knows this and is happy. I will make Jack smile. I watch as my father carves the top off. He hands me a very large spoon; too big for my hands. I plunge the utensil into the soft, fleshy insides of the pumpkin. My mother stands nearby with a baking sheet and salt. As I dump shovelfuls of gooey, pumpkin mess into a bowl at my side, she digs her fingers into the softness and pulls away the seeds. They are on the pan now, salted and going into the oven. In a little while, Jack and I will eat salted pumpkin seeds warm from the oven.

I remember sitting on the beach, my pale skin shocked by the heat of the sun. I tanned along my shoulders and tummy and wanted to show off my lithe body. I remember making my very first pair of cut off shorts - extra short the way they were worn by the other girls. I remember the shirts I would buy for those jeans. Small and colorful, letting my shorts hug my hips and the shirt settle over my curves. I felt adult. I felt beautiful.

I remember planting a garden with my mother. The flowers were pungent and the earth smelled of age and a glorious damp knowledge of creation. I felt that I was kneading the first earth ... the earth that cushioned the feet of the first man an woman. I could smell the cook fires and hear the rushing of the rivers. My mind worked to imagine the flora and fauna of that Eden.

I am in a new season now. I have my own garden, my own leaves to rake and I am much more comfortable in my own skin, pale or otherwise. It is good to know what I was and what I am. What I am to become is hinged on those things.