Nothing takes me back to a simpler time like the moment fall bugs are heard. Those glorious sounds instantly transport me back to the lazy days of being young and carefree. I thought the biggest thing in life was to see if I could find a katydid. The September symphony was better than anything on the radio. My mom always said if you heard a cricket, it meant 6 weeks until the first frost.
As fall progressed, my Dad and I loved to see who could find the biggest acorn. Those little caps were about the best things I had ever seen. I thought they were perfect for decorating and making crafts. Buckeye was another favorite. The more in a pod, the better. My Dad and I made a game of everything. Hickory nuts were always a special prize because the squirrels liked them even better than we did. We didn’t realize it at the time, but what we were doing was living in the moment, creating our own symphony of memories to carry down throughout the ages.
Life is much like a symphony–always changing with some high notes, low notes, and then fading slowly. My kids joined my Dad and me on our autumn outings, and the symphony grew. The laughter rang out, and I like to think it was so perfect that it echoes off the mountains still as proof of a perfect moment in time.
Slowly, the symphony was changing as people were gone from this life. Now I’m the elder, and my kids take the place I once held dear by my parents’ side as fall took shape around me and I inhaled the beauty around me, never realizing one day the symphony might end. The thought flits through my mind if my kids wonder about these things or, like I was at the same ages, are blissfully oblivious to the fragility of the moments. For now, we carry on, basking in the beauty of the season, and the symphony plays on.
