Centering

I blinked and September was gone.

The tree right outside my window is always the first on my street to turn yellow. It might be a honey locust. I’m not sure and I’m not great at identifying trees, but I call her an impatient drama queen because when she fills my view with her yellowing leaves, it already looks like full-blown Fall in September.

It’s only when I walk outside do I realize what a trickster she is when every other tree on the block is still green.

Not the view outside my window, but the same tree. Do you know what it is?

I’ve been waiting with dread all summer for the scaffolding that was supposed to go up in front of our building. New Yorkers will understand. Everywhere around the city, you’ll encounter blocks with scaffolds laddering up the side of buildings and you’ll inevitably walk under a few. Accompanying the metal pipes and plywood is dark netting that enshrouds the facade. It’s there to catch debris from brickwork repairs, but it dims the light that comes through the windows considerably.

But I learned that our end of the building will be spared. I get to keep my view of this tree that likes to hurry the seasons along with her impatience. The tree that will later trick me into thinking that winter is here because when I look out, her branches will be bare when all the other trees in the neighborhood are still showing off their brilliant colors.

It’s the small things.

Because I blinked and September was gone. But what noise it made while it was still here.