The Quiet Life

You do not need to leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. Do not even listen, simply wait, be quite still and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked, it has no choice, it will roll in ecstasy at your feet. ~ FRANZ KAFKA

The leaves are on fire: red, yellow, orange. They crackle as I walk. There are still smatterings of green, trees clinging to the last bit of warmth. The sweaters, scarves, and boots have come out. The sunlight has a different quality. It feels a like diamond heat, with a sharp edge. This weather always makes me want to hibernate, shut down, close in, get cozy.

There’s a squirrel that’s stalking my apartment. Sometimes I see it peeking into my bedroom window, or clattering around the corner to the kitchen. The other night, I left the patio door open, and I nearly jumped when I saw two beady desperate eyes staring at me around the kitchen counter top. It herded me towards the cabinet (it knows where we keep our nuts) and I gave it a shiny little hazelnut, but it wouldn’t leave. It looked ready to climb up my pant leg for more. Greedy little thing, fattening up for the winter too. I had to chase it out.

Autumn stories are always quiet ones for me. This season always feels like, a held breath, a long wait – but I don’t know what I’m waiting for.

12 Comments to “The Quiet Life”

  1. I don’t know how much you know about American baseball, but I’m here in St. Louis, and we love squirrels. We have our own “rally squirrel.” It’s a long story, but let’s just say many St. Louisans believe a squirrel that got onto the field here in St. Louis reversed the team’s fortunes. And somehow ended up World Series Champions this year.

    But your squirrel isn’t rallying. It’s just hungry.

Comments are closed.