Scarlet Season

I think I've written about it so many times in this blog that autumn is my favourite season. There's a charm in seeing the leaves change their colour and leave the trees. Blown by the wind to wherever it brings them, as if the world is having a scarlet rain. Some fall to the ground right below the trees, some are blown away and land on the bushes, some go straight to the gutter, some are blown away to the roof, and some find their way to the hands of leaf dryer(?). I don't know what they call those people, but you get the logic here, right?

Anyway.

Looking at autumn is like looking at life. We rise and we fall. We grow up and we go. We may be running on a treadmill or maybe flying around in the speed of light. And we should take a note or two from the trees and the leaves. The courage to stand your ground and try again next time, despite knowing that it will wither and fall again. But the hope is still there, will always be there. The hope for a future where we will grow again. The hope for a future where we will rise again. The future where we will go all the distance, to where we actually belong.

In the midst of all that, one particular leaf found its way to my pocket. A small, yellow leaf. A leaf that might be admired by many, some even got close enough to grab it, but none were chosen by the leaf.

It was my pocket.

The leaf chose my pocket to spend the cold season. Could it be the warmth? The size? The acceptance? We'll never know. All I know is that the leaf chose me, and for me, who has been wanting to have a small, five-fingered yellow leaf, I have a duty to keep it safe and sound 24/7. A duty that's not rooted from the obligation of ownership, but a form of gratefulness that I've been given a chance to hold it tightly in my hand and keep it deep inside my pocket.

The leaf was, is, and will always be a blessing in my life. A symbol of hope, that my pocket is big and warm enough for a leaf to live all the rest of its life.