Summer has Come and Gone

The scene was set perfectly; the blue sky lightly speckled with cloud-dust, the sun bright and warm yet seasoned with the crisp breath carried by the beginning of fall. Students walked on sidewalks beneath large mighty trees, their dignified arms outstretched to reveal elegant green dressing, sewn together one leaf at a time to form the most beautiful cloak to shame even the likes of Vera Wang. Haughty stone buildings towered above, creating a atmosphere of prestige and enlightenment and superiority.

I felt like I was back in grade two. My new backpack was still crisp and placed on my back, complete with all the accessories needed to complete a day at school; one binder with paper, two Papermate Comfortmate clicky pens, one mechanical pencil, a list of my classes' times and locations, one sweater, my house and mailbox keys, and my bank card to buy five hundred dollars worth of books later in the day. I was in new States-bought clothes, which mom forbid me to wear until school and I was feeling armed and ready for a day of beginnings which lay ahead of me, like a picnic blanket awaiting two picnic-ing lovers. I walked into the sun, into the fall school day, into the courtyards complete with picture perfect students, sitting under trees and reading text books. I wish I had brought the book I've been reading, or even better a laptop so that I could fade into the green grassy backdrop as well. The grassy hill in front of the pond was beckoning me to dive deep into the world of someone else, or too get lost in the sound of clicking as my fingers dance to create a gentle flow of magical words which somehow come from me.

The football field is the pinnacle of the fall atmosphere. I often wish I owned a working camera because I feel like I could completely capture the feeling surrounding my attitude towards this new year. I would capture it all, I would show you the maroon and gold painted uprights against a sky at dusk, an empty bench on the field with large bold "MOUNTIES" painted upon the aged wood. Just imagine a world of silence filled with the steady melody of football. I wish I could capture the players, wet and rained on against the dreary sky, solemnly looking towards the field, or the helmet left lost, sitting in the grass, next to the white yard markers. It is not the same feeling felt when watching Varsity Blues or Remember the Titans, but more real, more hopeful, more bold and beautiful and determined to look foreword and press on and stand upright.