Winter is approaching fast. Autumn comes routinely as expected. The cool, crisp, morning sun gives a reprieve from the summer heat. But then summer brings out a vibrant life full of activities different from the routine. Life moves at a fast pace – vacation as a family, swimming in the pool, outdoor barbecue, children in the park running around or on a swing, young parents pushing strollers, young girls jogging by the lake with their ponytails swinging, pet dogs catching Frisbees. It’s a slide show of summer. Then the last slide declares that summer is over. Fall arrives bringing its own colorful mosaic trying to outdo summer. Young birds leave their mother’s nests to build a nest of their own. Tree leaves change color – at first yellow, then orange, then red and finally brown, as if it is the last swan song before falling to the ground. One by one they fall. The last one waits its turn for the cruel wintry blizzard to take it down.
I have been in this house for a long, long time. I too had left my parent’s nest and moved far away to build my own nest. That was in the spring of my life. I knew nothing about building a nest, being on my own. I was fearful, yet excited. I found a new partner, I found new friends in the new frontier. I wasn’t thinking of fall or winter then. I wasn’t alone anymore. Life was wonderful.
John was my friend, my brother in this new frontier. I could count on him and his wife Julie. They were only slightly older than me. They were happily married with three little adorable children. I had arrived from a different land as an alien. John had picked me up from the airport and I was their guest those initial days and nights. They showed me how America worked. They gave me their own bed. They shortened and simplified my strange name and called me “Lo”. No, not J (ennifer) Lo (pez) that everyone talks about these days. With no countryman to lean on, John and Julie were my family. Now some 40 years later, we don’t see each other much, don’t even talk on the phone as frequently as we should. But they are still close to our hearts. We live in two different cities. We got busy with our own lives, family, career, and so on. Before we knew it, the summer of our life was over. Autumn has set in. The empty nest is quiet. We don’t have much to talk about even with our spouses. The birds have flown away and made their own nests in faraway places as we did some four decades ago.
So, when we received this phone call late at night from John, it was unexpected. John had retired early (or should I say, an outcome of downsizing of his company) many years ago and had moved to a smaller city about 200 miles away from us. However, he continued working on his own – buying cars at auction markets and selling them for a meagre profit. I suppose they were doing fine financially – with a pension from his company, social security benefit, and an occasional extra income from car sales. We had visited them when our children were still in high school. They had these giant pecan trees that produced plenty of pecans in season. They used to give us a bagful of those. They used to sell their pecan in a season that had brought a little extra income too. Their two boys were becoming young, handsome men. The youngest daughter, Jena was the most beautiful girl I had known. But then do we know what tomorrow really brings?
“Lo, I had to take Julie through emergency yesterday evening. We just got back. She is fine for now and is in bed resting.” – John said.
What’s wrong John? Is it serious? – I was taken back by the news.
“Well, she had seizures. Once again, they did not find anything. They did a brain scan and found a little spot. But they said that it was irrelevant and wasn’t the cause of her seizure. You know, she had seizures in the past from time to time. Those were minor. She had not had any seizures for the last couple of years, although she has been in pain for a long time. Her whole body, muscle, joints – everything aches. She can’t even ride the car for an hour. We have been pretty much stuck in the house. Doctors can’t find anything wrong with her. She has been on pain medication for a while. She is either in bed or in the couch in front of the TV. The children are gone and have their own families and own problems. Jena married the wrong guy and ended up in a divorce as you know. He used to physically abuse her. We ended up raising Jena’s children. Now, this with Julie! You know, you are like my brother. I am very tired. I don’t know how long I can go on like this.” – John kept going. John was in his early 70s.
“John, you got to be strong. Please let me know if there is anything we can do.” – I felt stupid as we had not made time to visit them in a long time.
Well, if you all can find time, stop by. Julie would love to see you all. You know, she loves to talk. I caution you, she can talk non-stop. She whines a lot these days, gets irritated easily.
“Will do” – I said. “You got to take care of yourself, John. We are not getting any younger. We got to remain strong.” – as if I was lecturing my older brother.
I remember how I had arrived in this country for higher education as a young man practically with nothing, when John and Julie, two total strangers had welcomed me to their house, had shown me how America worked in those early days. In time, their three little children became very fond of me and used to crawl all over me or climb on my back for a ride. Later I used to take them for “Trick or Treat” along with our own two children on Halloween night. Yes, I too got married and had a family, a house of our own, children and a job with decent pay. We got busy with our own lives. John and Julie were busy with their lives and children. Ups and downs in the work place, children growing up, falling in love, getting married, and moving away – all happened in our lives as natural. I suppose time did its usual magic. We witnessed beautiful weddings of their children. They came to our children’s wedding. But, we had very little time for ourselves. Our own romance had worn out with the rigors of life. We did not even talk to John and Julie much, let alone see them as they had moved away. However, like a magic, suddenly the scenery changed as if someone did a trick with a magic wand. The busy summer was over. Fall was setting in. Leaves were falling. There was a chill in the air, quietness all around.
Jena had a divorce. Her young love had blinded her to marry someone who was not meant to be the love she was hoping for. Her children ended up at John and Julie’s house. John and Julie raised their grandchildren, a boy and a girl. They too grew up in time and flew away in time. So we are empty nesters living in two different cities, reminiscing the past and wondering when the autumn’s last leaf will fall.
I remember how I had occasionally gone to Sunday church with John and Julie along with their children – all dressed up. It was a Baptist church. The priest would give a loud oratory for the congregation to surrender to Jesus Christ, the savior; else we might go to hell. John had told me that he was of Italian decent and that he had grown up in a devout Catholic family. Julie had grown up in a southern Baptist family. Julie was John’s high school sweet heart. In time they got married. John too became a Baptist for Julie’s sake. John’s family did not like that. I myself had grown up next to a Hindu temple as a boy. I had nothing against any religion. I had been to Hindu temple, mosque, church, and synagogue. However, in time we all lost interest in these organized rituals. The sermons seemed hollow and devoid of spirituality. Then again, that was an individual choice and if visiting a temple, mosque, church gave someone happiness or a piece of mind, so be it. Live and let live! But John and Julie visited Church less and less frequently. I stopped going to any such house of God. If He is omnipresent, He is in our home too and I can say my silent prayer in my quite moment and do not need to publicly declare such allegiance to God. It was the love for Julie that had made John to become a Baptist. Now, the love of his life may be taken away from him. The children are gone. Julie will leave too. The house, the pecan trees, the land – the material stuff we gather during our life will stay behind.
We had planned to visit John and Julie, but could not make time immediately after that conversation with John. Then another phone call came in less than a month. Julie just passed away. Her funeral would be in two days. We never got to talk to Julie. We drove to John’s place for the funeral. We did not say a word during that drive. Winter’s first snow was falling. The world was wearing a pure white sheet like the widows in India I used to see. There was a deathly quietness in the air. The trees in the forest alongside the road were standing frail and naked without the leaves. Icicles were beginning to form. The rustling sound made by the fallen leaves in the wintry breeze was the only sound telling us how every leaf must fall. Finally, the last leaf had fallen to ground spiraling down, dancing the last dance, slowly.
