Autumn by Thom Dunn

Topic- Autumn (written by Thom Dunn)

 

I’m from New England. 

New England is a riot of color in the fall.

I ask my fifty-three year old daughter, “Have you been to New England in autumn?”

“No,” she says, “I’ve never been to New England in autumn.”

Actually, outside on Hollywood Avenue in Cincinnati leaves are turning in bunches. 

Down by the Cape after the homecoming dance Edna Tenney comes up to me.  “Feel me, “she says, her bathing suit dripping from a quick dip in Buzzard’s Bay.  I refrain. Dumb high school fool.  On the way back, Ralph and Madeleine get to play-fighting, and Ralph nearly runs into a tree.  I shout, “Look out, Ralph” in a sharp desperate voice.  It may be the most important thing I ever did in my life.  The laughter in the wagon goes on.  The moment goes on.  We continue to consume beer, no hard stuff.  Not I, of course.  As per a promise I made to my sister I never drink.  The year is 1956.  Looking back I find it strange that there is no marijuana, at least none that I ever saw in Milton High.  Oh, but there is the dance, and the Cape, more beer than Ralph should drink, Madeleine’s inattention.

We cruise past Hyannisport and into the miracle that is autumn, and beside me the miracle that is Edna.

“Feel me, “she says, “Feel me.”