Words that Evoke Feelings of Texture

 "Leaves That Are Green"

I was twenty-one years when I wrote this song.
I'm twenty-two now but I won't be for long
Time hurries on.
And the leaves that are green turn to brown,
And they wither with the wind,
And they crumble in your hand.

Once my heart was filled with the love of a girl.
I held her close, but she faded in the night
Like a poem I meant to write.
And the leaves that are green turn to brown,
And they wither with the wind,
And they crumble in your hand.

I threw a pebble in a brook
And watched the ripples run away
And they never made a sound.
And the leaves that are green turned to brown,
And they wither with the wind,
And they crumble in your hand.

Hello, Hello, Hello, Good-bye,
Good-bye, Good-bye, Good-bye,
That's all there is.
And the leaves that are green turned to brown,
And they wither with the wind,
And they crumble in your hand. 

As I was driving home from having lunch downtown with Matt, this beautifully written poem which is sung by my two favorite singers, (and my all time favorite songwriter,) plays on my radio via my IPhone Pandora app. 

My dad played the album, Sounds of Silence throughout my childhood. We sang the songs without realizing it was coming out of our mouths. When I was a young mom, I played this album for my own kids. Our random, crazy, dance parties usually ended with "Cecelia." 
      Now, think about that- my boys were 3 and 6 years old; here I was dancing with them to a song where the girl was swapping bed mates... What the heck?! They grew up knowing real life. Wink.

 All my 45 years have been affected by the wise and poetic words of Paul Simon. Not until today have the words affected me into wanting to act on my feelings.
Sitting in my car, I so badly wanted it to be a Delorean. Then, I could travel to another state, at another time; to land in the middle of Autumn just so I could grab some reddish-brown, almost completely dehydrated, fall leaves and watch them crumble in my hand. 

The feeling was so real that the veins of the withering leaves sat upon the life-lines of my palm; yet, I couldn't crumble them. It saddened me that I couldn't have the texture of the crumble in actuality. I sat there in my driveway despondent. No leaves, No crumble.

The real meaning of the song swimming in my head:
Time hurries on.

The textures of our lives change as we age. As children  we live life simply, playfully. We look forward to being older. Time travels. Finally, like the big kids, we can drive, we can date, and we are almost out of our parent's house. Our texture is like a smooth leather couch- soft, young and eager for wear.

Then we hit our 20's. We are out of high school entering into the world of the unknown adult hood. We thought we knew what it was all about. Didn't Denise Huxtable and Maggie Lauten of A Different World show us what college was supposed to be about?
Maybe we weren't looking forward to life after college, all because we saw how screwed up life could be for Billy and Jules of St. Elmo's Fire. Our leather couch is becoming a little careworn from our friends hanging out watching movies, but the leather still feels good to our bare legs (peeking out below our worn cut off shorts,) because it is softening even more.

We get married, we have kids. Time speeds up way to fast and wham!, the kids graduate and move out of the house. Our leather couch is torn and faded from little jumping feet who became teens who had sleep-overs and fell asleep watching their favorite movies of  The Sandlot, Batman or She's the Man.

Coming out of my foggy thoughts, I realize the car is still running; my mind still spinning.  I look around me- like the green leaves, my life has withered in the wind and time hurries on way too fast.