Autumn

It’s a chilly autumn day in Igualada. I sit on my terrace warmly dressed to enjoy the fresh air. A dozen or so birds are perched in the trees growing from the courtyard of the old hospital across the street, sitting still, saving their energy for warmth. The soft blue sky is full of white clouds, slowly drifting over the valley. The sun breaks through them in some places, gracing the hills with bright sunshine. As a cloud overhead moves to the east, the sun peeks through onto the hospital grounds. The birds stir, feeling the warmth upon them. One preens the feathers on its back while another spreads its wings in a lazy stretch. Two take flight from the taller of the two trees, soaring over the neighborhood and out of sight.

People walk down the street below, off to see family, or to attend afternoon mass. All the commercial areas of town are closed for the holy day. A man and a little girl ride down the promenade on bicycles, warmly bundled in coats and scarves to keep off the chill of approaching winter. The sleepy Sunday is broken here and there by a car going out of town toward Barcelona. The promenade is littered with orange and yellow leaves, turned in the cold and darkened weather of November. Tonight, the city’s street sweepers will clear the debris, but tomorrow, the signs of fall will return again and over again each day until finally the trees are bare for winter.

Off in the distance, a church bell tolls, reminding the citizens of the city that mass is to begin shortly, but only a few take notice while others go about social and personal business on their day of rest. A group of teenagers walk carousing loudly down the street toward downtown. Across the promenade, a woman is sweeping her terrace, a boy coming home from the market with a long loaf of fresh bread for the dinner table.

A swift breeze passes over my 7th floor terrace and reminds me of the warmth inside and I return to my bedroom to prepare for my weekly Sunday night dinner with my friend from the school.