Monday, September 30, 2019

September 30, 2019 - October Threshold

On the last day of September, I crept outside while the night still wore her veil.  I was looking for the hydrangeas to confirm what I had long suspected.  I was not disappointed.  I came upon them stealthily and found them dripping their blue everywhere, shocked but unabashed at my approach.

“Liars!” I yelled.  “Impersonators!  I knew that you were not flowers!”
“We are!” they wailed back, but their cry was weak.  Their blue had fallen.  The treacherous lie was exposed. 

“We are still flowers!” they said defiantly, angry now.  But to no avail.  A plain tan color showed through.  It was the truth they had always worn beneath their false façade.

“You lie,” I said finally and simply, “Here is dawn.”  I pointed a cold and hardened finger to the Eastern sky as it brightened, spread with the blood-red of purpose, a flower in bloom.

And what could they say to that?  They knew it was true.

We cross the threshold now.  There will be no more standing as we did between the two worlds, looking back toward life on one side and onward toward death on the other—the privilege of the threshold.  Its magic has now passed, and there is no bridegroom to usher us through.  We shall have to push onward to October on our own.  The great decay begins. 

I pulled my cloak around me and hurried back to my house in the cold morning light.  I had seen enough truth for one day.