Random Meanderings of Truth and Sincerity

I don’t have a specific theme right now, so I’m going to just ramble a little. One of the things I adore this time of the year is how the death of summer is so beautiful. The trees don’t look as majestic as they do during fall, their death into the hands of winter. It makes me wonder if it is simply a way of nature, or also a sign from God? For if nature does not look as beautiful as in its dieing season, what can we gather from that? I don’t know. I have a vivid memory of Fall of when I was six years old and was walking home with my brother from school. I noticed the leaves from the trees were red, and I asked him why they were red. He told me they were ‘bleeding’ to taunt me, and I got really upset. I protested, yelled, and even began to cry to get him to change what he said to something that didn’t bother me so. He didn’t, and it ended up being a bad day for me.

Every time I look back at that memory, I get choked up because I think he may have been right. The leaves were ‘bleeding’ and thus ‘dieing.’ What appeared so beautiful to me could have been the agonizing pains of the leaves trying to hold on to a fleeting existence in which they inevitably become dust. Even when my brother said that, I felt as if I had to save them somehow. I didn’t know how to protect them, but I felt in my conscience that I needed to help them. I wanted to console them somehow.