September 30, 1996
This week, we are featuring a story written by Donna Lovell, from Scarborough, Ontario. Donna is a member of the Board of Governors of Frontier College. She has also been a trainer and a speaker on behalf of the Independent Studies Program. She lives with her two Siamese cats, C.C. and B.B.
I am sitting here in the sun waiting for the school bus to bring Zack home from school on this perfect day. As I sit on the steps of the school, the air is clean and warm on your face. You know the kind of day where you need your heavy sweater or a light coat and you could put your hands in your pockets or up the sleeves to keep them warm. The sun is so bright it seems to light up the golds, oranges and reds of the trees until they seem to burst into flames.
I look up into a sky which is so high and blue that the airplanes seem to hang still in the air, barely moving. Thinking back to a time when planes were not so common-place and it was with excitement you watched them cross the sky. I also think of fall days when the smell of burning leaves and apples filled the air, when you raked huge piles of fallen leaves and ran through or crawled under them. Leaf houses are without roofs or walls, just floor plans. As you laid under the bed-piles you felt warm and a little scared in case a mouse crawls in with you and bites your toes or makes a nest in your ear. These are the things that just might happen you have been told by others who have done this before.
The smells are sweet, yet the acid smoke from the burning leaves kind of pricks at your nose. The apples are under the trees that no-one owns. You pick up the best to eat or take home to your Mom. The half-rotten ones you step on or pick up and throw because they make such a great sound as they hit the road or pop under foot on the half frozen ground.
I hear the children's laughter and voices from the schoolyard as the large yellow bus comes along the street to stop in front of where I sit on this fall day.
Zack comes tumbling off the bus with laughter and chatter on this perfect day. "Donna, could you give me twenty-five cents for snack tomorrow when we go to the farm, can Mike come in to play Nintendo, I sat with Mike all the way home on the bus, can I have chips for my before supper snack ?" I answer all his questions to the affirmative and I think of my perfect fall day which I have put away for another time. A different memory from the one when I was a child, a gentler more quiet day in the Autumn. On a fall day.
[This story was taken from a collection of writings by students of the Independent Studies Literacy Program at Frontier College, entitled Insights, p. 13.]