The Grace of Fall

The Corona swaddled heat broke, and cool hands on warm faces lit by tiki torches laughed at the night. She stood, my lovely friend, in a charming white skirt and blue shirt. An elegant angel. Flashbulbs and close friends and I felt joy, not drug induced, but honest. A joy for where I was and who I was with. The people that attach themselves to my sleeve, ride along with me on this crazy trip. I think that love as a color is red. Bright, passionate, fearful.

Sunshine and Hollywood bring out the devil in me. The cynic. The strong warrior woman that carries a sword as comfortably as a Coach bag. We travel in words from jokes to the deepest conversation as if from the couch to the floor. Seamless friendship wrapped in raw honesty that I cannot put in a box large enough. It's a present prettier than any ribbon I could find to wrap around it.

I'm aware of the eyes on me at times. The dilated pupils and swinging heads. Like a blanket around my shoulders it warms me. We weaved our way through the party.

I think that people at an event like a school of fish, swim together. Looking for all the same things. The next beer, an easy laugh, and a connection if even for a moment. To feel bigger than when you're alone on that couch aware of all your faults. So magnified. But in public. Oh the mascara covers your tired eyes. The shoes over toes you can't seem to find time to paint that sunrise shade.

We ate lettuce and tomatoes, saying a mystified goodbye to summer. The end of another hot, sticky season I will miss when the first really cold wind blows through my too thin sweater.

But Fall? I can't wait to say hello and feel the golden leaves trickle over my head into my hands and lay a carpet so rich. I will crunch over them and swim through painted grass.

And in September? Oh I will shine. Like the newest penny in my change purse. And it will be my month, the beginning of my year. With stars in my eyes and tapestry at my feet.