There is a certain time of year in New England when all of a sudden the trees are all on fire, which you notice while you’re walking between two destinations that probably don’t mean much to you. The trees are just on fire and so is your soul, and the weather is getting colder and trying to put all the fire out with it’s damp chill. It’s the best time of year to take a walk for no reason, but no one has the time. There is always too much to do and denail about the onset of winter and a girl in your life that you should be paying more attention to you. This part of the year, deep autumn if you will, is so fleeting and fragile that there are some years when you won’t notice at all, and many more when you will almost miss it. The fire can’t be held on to, but it can be admired and felt and used while it’s still there. It was exactly this time of year when we sat under the willow tree in front of our dormitory on a Thursday afternoon and smoked a joint while we talked about life. It was warm out for deep autumn, but the wind blew a steady breeze that felt amazing in your hair and made it okay to wear a sweatshirt. The leaves of the willow were turning red and orange all around us, and the smoke drifted up through them towards the sky and it looked mezmerizing.
“Voting for McCain makes no fucking sense,” I said to no one in particular while staring up into the tree.
“Ya, no shit,” Nicole answered. “Anyone’s better than Bush though, at least we know that.” Dan was busy climbing up into the tree while Mike chased him and Sully looked on laughing. I thought about how much I hated the President, and how there probably wouldn’t ever really be a good President given the way things were going now. Everything was a mess, and we were all stoned and Dan was up in the tree again.
I flipped my hood up and enjoyed that it was still light out. The light was catching the leaves and made us look like we were all on fire inside the tree. The willow tree would lose all its leaves a few weeks later, and we wouldn’t really smoke there or sit there much anymore because then anyone could see you and it wasn’t just a secret place where you talked about how awful the world was. We liked it like that, or at least I did. I think Dan just liked to climb, and Mike liked to try and be better at things than Dan. Sully probably liked just about anything and was always happy, and Nicole just wanted to be with Sully and get stoned. Those might be the real reasons, but it really felt like we loved that tree when it started losing its leaves in November.
I wanted to bring up the Red Sox, but I realized that no one would have cared really because Fitzy wasn’t there. This meant that I had run out of things to talk about that weren’t either about sports or completely depressing and disturbing (like religion or television). Dan decided right then that it was time to jump out of the tree and say the smartest thing anyone has ever said.
“We should go grab dinner from Wakehurst, they usually have good food on Thursdays.”
“I’m in,” Sully responded.
“Let’s go,” gasped Mike as he struggled down from the tree.
