A sort of depression hits me, when I walk outside, and the first leaves begin to brown. Even at this age, when I'm going to my retirement party -- an especially early retirement party -- I still feel depressed. Maybe it's the loss of basic elements -- mud, greens, tree forts -- the elements that fade when the world begins to die.
I stop in front of a tree and watch a leaf slowly dance down -- as if it was oblivious to the life that the tree gave. I have maybe two weeks left? Two weeks of lifeless melancholy before I scramble to find an empty seat at the back of the class. A seat away from the glares.
This is on my mind, like a damp cloth, for the next ten minutes before I come to the party. Then like the dancing leaf, my youth reaches its end and I grow up. Grow up, and fall back to the earth.
