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Darkness, darkness Around AgainBy Rick Horowitz The thing with the light -- that's the worst part of it. The whole idea of getting up before the sun does is enough to make him twitchy. He could understand it, maybe even accept it, if he'd actually done anything to turn his schedule upside down, if he'd decided to start working nights or something. But he hasn't decided to start working nights or something -- not at all. His clock radio is set for the very same time it always is, only now when it clicks on with the morning news, it doesn't feel like morning. (Well, maybe 3 in the morning, but certainly not the part of the morning he's used to seeing.) It's still dark out, not even a hint of color softening the eastern sky. Doesn't matter -- it's time to get up, so he does the only thing he can do: He sleeps for another hour. He just pulls the blankets closer and puts off for as long as possible having to deal with the bleak reality of the situation. It's mid-October, and the change is coming. They'd been teasing him lately, the spirits who conjure up the seasons -- day after day of August-like temperatures and crystal-blue skies. Somehow the warmth made the late-arriving sun nearly forgivable. Decked out again in shorts and sandals, he could almost let himself believe in an endless summer, even in these northern latitudes. He knew the facts, the logic of orbit and axis. But if he chose to ignore the facts, at least for a little while, what was the harm? It was the same with the leaves. He'd spent the weekend out of town, driving wide-eyed, in absolute wonderment, through mile after mile of luscious fall colors. With every curve of the road, another "Oh, my!" as another stunning panorama swept into view. Crimson and gold everywhere, with just enough green hanging on to make the contrast all the more vivid. There were pumpkins for sale at the roadside stands, and bag after bag overflowing with apples; some of their names were unknown to him. Did he understand that the very same forces that had brought him the color-packed trees and the pumpkins and the apples were also stealing the daylight from him, making off with a minute or two every day? Of course he understood it. So much of life involves tradeoffs; this was just another one: The colors come because the leaves are...leaving. He understood it. That doesn't mean he had to like it, or even think about it. Not while the sky was blue and the trees were bright and the midday sun was shining. On mornings like this one, on the other hand... He can't ignore the matter any longer. The clock radio may be working, but the sun is definitely missing in action. The sky improves to gray, but nothing more than that. There's a steady drizzle turning the roads shiny, reflecting the headlights of the early commuters. And where did the warm go? A front came in overnight, while he slept. He may have seen the last of warm for a while. The shorts and the sandals are out of the picture. It's fleece instead, and an umbrella. And the sun? What about the sun? In a few days' time, he'll be setting all his clocks back an hour and recapturing some morning light. He won't be waking up in darkness anymore; he's happy about that. But the light he gains in the morning will have to come from somewhere, won't it? Won't the autumn afternoons be turning into autumn nights that much sooner? It's another tradeoff. He's willing to do it. That doesn't mean he has to like it. Or the leaves newly scattered over the cool, damp ground. Posted 10/14/03.
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Rick Horowitz
