Autumn Memories

I stepped out into the crisp October air, quickly passing through the vibrant scarlet and orange leaves that lined the ivory window sills and showered the sleek gray streets of Stockton. The murky, overcast sky illuminated the yellow flowers down below, scattered among each lawn. Fall seemed to decorate the dark houses in the neighborhood with dark plum and cardinal trees that formed a sort of bridge down each lane. Always in a mood to run, I began to jog, each stride making a thump, thump on the cracked sidewalk that lead to park I used to spend hours as a child. The rush of cool air to my brain and lungs felt piercing, but soon washed away as I continued to run four blocks to the park.

I would take my baby cousin to the playground, pushing him on the squeaky metal swings that he so diligently held on to. His almond eyes would look up at the sky and point to planes that flew overhead in the distance. "Feigi," I told him in chinese, the word for airplane. "Feigi," he would repeat, revealing his toothless smile. My troubled mind would easily be soothed as soon as I held my cousin in my arms, smelling his baby shampoo and feeling his soft tressels of fine hair.

"Gou Gou," he would point, again, this time to the dogs that would pass by.

"Yes, Gou Gou," I'd point with him, watching as his eyes scanned the dog for so long until it was far out in the distance, only a speck. Days like these where it was just me and him, gazing at the Autumn leaves tumbling to the ground, was priceless. The momentum of the swing would create a sort of melodic rhythm that put me at peace. The world seemed to go quiet, the outside noise falling away. The only thing to be heard was the soft laughter of a baby.