Path Dependency

All it takes is the gentlest of nudges. Earth is lazy. It keeps moving the same way, pointing the same way, because inertia is easier than change. But that inertia takes it to a place where the sun moves a little closer to the horizon, where it’s absent each night a little longer. That’s all it takes to get things started.

You feel it in the air on your skin. It’s crisp. You appreciate the warmth of your clothing now, after the hot and ugly slog of summer.

The geese are flying again, painting gray arrows in the sky. They’re heading south this time, hanging above you for a wild and transient moment.

The trees have made enough glucose for the year. The green melts away. The red end of the spectrum now plays across their leaves. One leaf at a time, each tree, one tree at a time, each street, color uncoordinated, churning like the splash of surf on the rocks.

And there are the silly things. The stuff of culture and customs, not the ancient things that don’t give a damn if a person sees them. Hot autumn spice in my coffee, making me feel basic in the most delightful way. The decorations going up, orange and black. The stink of pumpkin guts staining newspaper.

It was summer just a month ago. The air, the animals, the trees, the customs, all the same, and all unrecognizably different. There’s Corvallis, as summer, and now Corvallis, as autumn. Just a little push from the sun, and everything settles in a new groove, a new season. Ready to do this all again, as long as anyone cares to see it.

There’s a lot of shame I carry inside me about who I used to be. The shame of feeling that who I am now, who I’m becoming, is made invalid by the path I took to get here.

I think about that, and I think about what a fool you’d be to think that summer invalidates autumn. Despite the way I present myself, I’m not a rational creature at heart (like any other human), and arguments like that don’t always help. But they’re nice to hold onto anyway.