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    October

October. Days getting shorter, the first cold weather of the season, leaves turning yellow and falling, colouring the mountains with their browns, reds, oranges, yellows. The afternoons spent at your grandparents’ house, doing your homework, with your mind thinking of when you would go out with them to take a walk in the nearby woods, when you would make up a thousands games among the big stones, the tall chestnut trees and the brooklet running through the meadows. You would pick up chestnuts and walnuts and, back home, you would savour that autumn flavours with your parents, those flavours and smells that would accompany you in your life, always reminding you of when the world seemed enchanted, magic, and you felt eternal in your happiness.

October. After many years you are again in those places, in that house you never forgot. The furniture in farmhouse style, the kitchen where, sat at the table, you would do your homework unwillingly, the wood burning in the stove, the back garden with the roses that had always been so perfect, and then those woods, those meadows, those trees.

October. The same colours, the same smells, the same flavours, but a changed, different life. Without your homework to do, without that confidence that the mere presence of your grandparents could infuse into you, without that feeling of eternal happiness and freedom. In front of a past that is no more, that could never come back, that you know you cannot and don’t want to bring back.

October. It’s strange to go into that house and think that you have just moved there, to walk again in those woods, through those paths and realizing that you have come back from where you had left to start living and creating your future.

 

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Written by Marta F., 01st October 2006

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