Autumn Retrospective
It’s 8am on a Sunday morning, in Cape Town, South Africa. I’m curled up in bed, sipping my morning coffee. For the third morning in a row, I have woken up feeling uneasy. The morning air has been cold and crisp of late — a welcome change from the sweltering heat of February, and a very early sign of changing seasons. The shift into Autumn is only due in April, but over the last week the telltale signs have been there: a later sunrise, a quietness in the early hours, and a drop in temperature that makes coffee in bed seem all the more appealing.
I register this shift in the world around me, and I feel unsettled. It gives me pause. There is a persistent pulling feeling in my chest as a mixture of emotions arise— not quite nostalgia, but something similar. Memories and feelings circulate in my mind. I settle into the feeling and allow myself to be transported back to the little cottage on Avenue Road in Newlands that I shared with two friends a few years ago. Despite all the memories formed in that house, these associations with the onset of autumn are centered around a specific time we shared there — the lockdown period in 2020. It was a time that was marked by significant personal shifts, introspection and discomfort. If I close my eyes and try to remember that period, I find that, for me, it now has a taste, a smell, a set of sounds and feelings:
Sweet strawberry jam and salty butter on home made-white bread. The smell of rubber as I press my forehead against a yoga mat. Cold, bare feet on beige carpet. Sweet, freshly cut grass and the sound of Shaz’s weedeater buzzing away on a Sunday. The hiss of steam rising from a mocha pot as it boils over on a gas stove. Soughing oak trees with creaking branches. The whooshing of a soccer ball as it ploughs through the leaf litter in the garden, chased closely by my excited dog. Pretty unremarkable domestic experiences that I will forever associate with that period of time, and the emotions that went with it — twinges of sadness, the twisting feeling of anxiety in my stomach. Bitter-sweet memories where good and bad combine.
I find it strange that this still comes up for me, year after year, as the air cools and the mornings darken. So much time has passed, it feels as though any associations should be rendered insignificant. Despite this, I appreciate the retrospective that has been brought about — an important counter-balance to whatever challenges I feel that I am experiencing in the moment. A chance to reflect upon growth, friendship, community and wellbeing. An opportunity to centre oneself and reconnect with what is important in life.
Looking out of my bedroom window, I spot a gecko darting out onto the balcony to sunbathe — a reminder that it’s time to get out of bed and make the most of the few weeks of summer that are left. This year’s retrospective may now have passed. Perhaps, I will need to revisit the past again tomorrow.
