Like the Colors of Fall

I'll come right out and say it: My least favorite thing about fall is the foliage. I know everybody likes the reds and oranges and yellows of the trees, but I'd prefer just to keep the green, thank you very much. Bring on the early evenings, the cooler weather, and damp days, which are all manageable. But if it's all the same to you, I'd rather not have naked, dead trees everywhere. 

This blog isn't a critique on the autumn season, actually. I actually am realizing, as I type this, that I need to learn to live for the moment a bit more. Not so much that I am negligent of the future, but enough to appreciate what is just as much as what will be. 

When I started my rant about the trees, I was reminded of the Mitch Hedberg joke where he talked about wine: "I like to drink red wine. This girl asked me once if red wine gave me a headache. I said, 'Yeah, eventually, but the first and middle part are amazing!' I'm not going to give up on something because of what it does eventually. It's like getting an apple and going 'Woah, stop! That's going to be a core eventually!"

This fall hasn't been as depressing as I was afraid it would be. I'm finally learning to enjoy it while it's here. I've got semester-long, group projects in two different classes, as well as other ongoing projects in those same classes. I'm trying to learn two different foreign languages, and I was assigned another project to come up with a story and be ready to present it over a weekend. I've got tests and quizzes to study for, research to do, letters to mail, and Sunday School lessons to plan. And aside from these responsibilities, I feel the need to maintain my friendships and family relationships. In short, I'm swamped. But I don't really feel it. 

Last week I walked across campus with a perfect stranger. Instead of worrying about being late, or being nervous around someone I didn't know, I just enjoyed the conversation (We actually even talked about politics, which isn't something most people discuss with strangers, nor something I particularly enjoy). Everything about the situation that could have made me uncomfortable or irritated me wasn't an issue. It was one of the coolest experiences of my life. 

And now that I think about it, it's not the first time I can say that. I've had a few other brushes with strangers that were profoundly awesome. 

When you talk to a stranger, you have to kind of let go of everything else that you know and that they know to really communicate, because there is so little common ground. Maybe to keep appreciating the moment, even to see the beauty in the dying trees, I need to talk to a few more strangers.