Breaking the Fall

The autumn air carried a chill, forcing us to pull sweaters over our t-shirts, and giving me a new appreciation for the warmth of his hand surrounding mine.

Our quiet voices mixed, musically, with the earthy sounds around us as we talked easily of little things.

To the left of the trail, irregularly shaped stones pointed the way to a swelling of the ground, inviting us to climb.

As my rubber-soled feet struggled to gain a foothold amongst jutting rocks and rolling stones, I thrust both hands in front of me in preparation for the fall before I feel his, larger hands around my waist, pulling me away from the rocks, and into his chest.

Climbing the rest of the way, without incident, we reached the top of the rising and stopped; to breathe, and to survey the landscape we had just traversed from a new perspective.

Standing on the apex, there is a renewed sense of hope in the clearness of the air, and gratitude that I didn’t make the climb, alone.

© Copyright 2007-2008 Stacye Carroll

Fall Festival


The woman threw her head back, and dark, luxuriant hair wafted down her back, as she gave into her laughter with full abandonment, unaware she was being observed. And, although I was out of earshot, I felt it as a loudly mellow, rolling sound of delight. She stopped walking and cinched up her simple cotton dress, as she wrapped her arms around her waist and looked down at the source of her amusement.

A young girl, maybe three or four years old, was scurrying away from the lake’s edge where a large mallard duck was thrashing about; wings flapping, dark neck arched. Wearing a left-over smile, the woman walked, again, towards the young girl, with a single hand outstretched.

Traffic at this midtown oasis is usually thick with fitness junkies running, young mothers pushing strollers, and older couples sitting on permanently mounted benches, tossing scraps of bread to waiting ducks until the trickling cascades of a large fountain, in the center of the lake, lulls them into reverie of days gone by.

So it was remarkable to realize that, today, there were just two visitors. I watched their interaction; the way the woman approached the girl with bemused compassion, and the tentative way the child turned to look at her. The autumn sun had painted them, and their surroundings, in multi-hued shadows, not visible just a few days before. Dark brown leaves stained the pristine concrete walkway on which they stood and a soft wind left the tops of the trees to swoop down, rippling the water before dancing in the woman’s skirt.

As Autumn blew in…

© Copyright 2007-2008 Stacye Carroll