Metamorphosis

Metamorphosis

An alley of brilliantly colored oak trees bordered the road where my house was planted. The crisp air of fall rendered every little leaf more vivid than it already was. The change had taken place, unnoticed, during the course of the day. When I woke up that morning, nothing had changed. It was still dark, but the sky had already shifted imperceptibly from a deep black to a dull dark grey. I stepped outside, tasting the air and wishing I didn’t have to go to school yet.
The atmosphere had a balmy feel, as it had had for the past two weeks. I wondered when it would finally get colder. As I stepped into the car, a chill galloped down my spine and I wished I hadn’t forgotten to take my jacket. It was too late now; Dad was driving out of the driveway. The smell of the leather seats reminded me of something, but my mind refused to let the memory penetrate my awareness. The car indicated an outside temperature of sixty degrees. Nor cold nor warm. Dreary day ahead. I wished I was still under my deliciously warm covers, dreaming. The car sped away like a black cat running under sleeping old trees. As the sun came up, the landscape lighted up. Bushes and trees and houses slowly lost their mysterious outline to become normal again. Approaching the highway from above, I noticed it resembled a blinking red caterpillar, steadily progressing towards its unknown goal. The sun was now completely up, flooding the sky with its daunting carmine glow. My senses weren’t awake yet and wouldn’t be for another hour or two. I always wondered why school started so early. At eight o’clock, nothing is really awake but the intellect - and I believe the latter functions better when one is not trying desperately to stay awake. The school comes in sight too early. I don’t want to stop daydreaming in the car. I don’t want to open the door and feel the aggressive wind engulf itself in my shirt. But the car comes to a stop and I feel my legs motioning me towards the gate, frontier between the outside and the world of obligations and responsibilities.
Eight class periods later, I emerge, pensively, from the imposing what-used-to-be-white building. Finally the day has ended. The way home is quiet, not a word is pronounced. I reflect on the day gone by, glad to have a moment to myself. The fields drifting by suddenly light up to the evening rays of sun. The sky bears an intense light blue, streaked at some places with white threads. Time seems to slow down as I finally get the chance to meditate for myself. Somehow it takes longer than usual to reach home, but I don’t mind. I like thinking. My dad calls me “sphinx” sometimes. We now get to the last part of the ride. Forest encloses the road in its powerful arms and seems very peaceful. Almost sleepy like myself. Entering the village, I finally understand why. It has arrived. Autumn has installed itself; nature rests after an extenuating purge.