Fall Forward
How I fell in love with immigrant life
I moved to the U.S. after having spent 22 years of my life in India. When I landed in Chicago, it was April, and I was greeted by the sweet-smelling cherry blossoms. Spring went by witnessing the blooming of a new relationship, new life, and a new identity for myself.
Summer entangled us in a whirlwind of newfound love and life. We spent our summer weaving a new place where we were building a life for ourselves. I was immersed in discovering new facets of myself amidst the serene views and urban landscapes of the town we were in and coming up with possibilities of what could be. Then, one September morning, Summer packed up and tapped out. I could only feel a glacial chill in all the spots of my home where I once sought warmth.
Fall visited me as if a long-lost friend. It settled in swiftly with its crunchy displays of gold and crimson; the air biting yet crisp like Gala apples filled my lungs. Pumpkin spice and nutmeg showed up in occasional wafts drifting through the lazy afternoons. Slowly, with measured steps, Autumn pulled me out of the reverie that was summer.
I'm awake to
a soft glow
of golden light
basking in the
flaxen delight
my heart and soul
have at last
come alive.But like old friends, Autumn brought along a bag full of longing, nostalgia, and the sudden urge to be around what was known to the soul. To be in the vicinity of familiar faces, known habits, and frequented places.
Maybe it was a sign to clean out the cobwebs of stale memories that had been stowed away into the nooks and crannies of my heart whilst I gathered and moved my entire existence from one continent to another. So when Fall/Autumn in Chicago peaked, my longing saw a rise too. To dillydally and chat with my Grandma when she sipped on her tea in the afternoon, my heart ached to be eating corn on the cob with my brother on the terrace of our city home, watching it pour outside and bickering over who got the better half. To see the look of plain contentment on my mother’s face soon after she doled out fresh Pakora (fritters) while the rest of us tried to scarf them down without burning the insides of our mouths. I wanted to be transported back to one of the many chilly evenings I had spent with my father hunting down the perfect 1“Doodh Jalebi” and satisfying our sweet tooth with the warmth of milk and each others company during those colder months.
Oh how enthralling is the unbinding of an existence futile come autumn I shall feed the soul with crimson views food that is whole filling my lungs with air crisp as pumpkin spice weed out dead decaying notions bare to reap fragrant blossoms in a soil fertile.
There's a melancholy in the changing colors and falling leaves that evokes a deep longing to go back to those days when life was all but a blank canvas waiting to be stroked on. But there's also an inspiration to look ahead and move forward with where your destiny has set course. Just like nature gathers the last of its green and turns it into gold, I learned to gather my old self and turn it into a new self, with new goals and new aspirations. Autumn reminded me that change can be beautiful, and even if you go through it with fear, the result is beautiful beyond measure. Watching the trees let go of their most beautiful possessions reminded me of the transience of everything and everyone we own in this world. Besides our soul and its relationship with its creator, nothing will remain.
Fall made me fall in love with my new life. It taught me that like leaves, we too can change colors, reinvent ourselves, and then bloom again.
And that you are never too old to frolic in the leaves!
Until Next Time,
Yours Truly,
Zahra.G
Doodh -Jalebi: A combination of warm milk (doodh) and fried dessert (jalebi) that’s savored in the colder months.
This was such a beautiful read. I felt like I was being taken by the hand a woven through the season of autumn. Thank you for sharing. Also craving doodh jalebi now! It's been a while since I had it!
Lovely read, but you made me hungry with all that food imagery (I also skipped dinner last night and haven't had breakfast yet so this just added to the existing want to venture into the kitchen and find leftover savories to microwave and gobble on).
I paid some attention to the rhymes in both poems and in the second, I wondered if ending it on "fertile soil" would be slightly better. It feels like a softer landing with the expected syntax, and while the futile/fertile rhyme gets misplaced a bit, there is a somewhat near rhyme between soul/whole and soil. Just a thought, try it out if you like. It's always fun to play around with things and see the possibilities.