So when you hear this autumn song
Clear your heads and get ready to run
So when you hear this autumn song
Remember the best times are yet to come.
Tracing over the bumpy surface of the school wall he let his hand fall to his side as the corner approached. His feet shuffled miserably across the wet ground and he winced as a cold blast of icy wind attacked his face like a million tiny needles filled with freezing water. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and sighed heavily, his breath fogging in front of his face. He shuffled toward the flag pole, staring at it as if it held the answers to all his problems - and yet it has so many problems of its own; the flag always blowing in the wind, desperate to fly free, but forever trapped on the pole.
In the background an attempt at sunlight tried to break through the thick grey cloud looming overhead. It was a feeble attempt though. He sighed again and turned back the way he came, this time taking a better interest in things like trees and such. There are a number of trees around the school grounds, mostly small and at this time of year the majority are bare. The last remains of leaves huddled together on the branches, pale and pathetic and yet providing uplifting splashes of colour to the dull and dreary atmosphere. The bareness of the trees highlighted the odd shapes of the branches, stretching out like hands trying to beckon one closer. How bittersweet he thought, frowning and continuing his walk. He'd hoped to find closure somewhere on his journey, but it's hard to find closure when he doesn't want to leave. However thinking about the alternate route, leaving is the favourable option. He stood up a little straighter, remembering this was supposed to be an uplifting walk, and tried to put on a brave face.
Turning round another corner he came to the side of the school which faced a row of houses. They were modern houses, built not too long ago and mostly inhabited by older, married couples - except for the house nearest the school. They were still a couple, but young and as far as he knew un-married. Their house was the kind you expected to see on a postcard: lightly covered in ivy, red door, browning leaves coating the neat grass. But he knew they weren't living their dream life yet. They couldn't have children. It's a long story he doesn't want to think about right now though, so he just wonders how they cope living next to a school and strolls on by.
Far above the evergreen pine trees crows called to each other – their sounds rough and loud and feathers as black as the early nights threatening to approach. Slouching toward the entrance to the building he slows to a stop at the memorial garden, almost laughing at how miserable it looks. The plants are limp, bending under their own weight and layers of rain which cover every surface. He finds it funny that he doesn't have any memories here, can't think of anything that ever happened here. That's funny. Or maybe he's just trying to cover up his sadness.
He read over the plate that was supposed to commemorate the lives of those who had gone too early, taking his time to consider each name. Strange he didn't know who any of them were. He walked away, ignoring the tugs in his chest and lump in his throat as he thought about the name which would soon be there. It shouldn't need to be there.
With a defeated sigh he acknowledged that his walk would have to end soon. But before that there was one last thing he wanted to see. For the first time in a while he felt some determination in his stride, walking with purpose to a set destination. He reached the pole. He spun around it until his eyes locked on the letters.
'K+B forever.'
Forever is a funny word.
Forever should be like the pine trees: green and whole regardless of the weather. But instead forever is like autumn. Autumn is Kurt's favourite season, and yet autumn is the beginning of the end.