November

Pressed by rain
Originally uploaded by jandarmor

Every autumn, after the trees are mostly bare, and the leaves lay scattered and brown, I remember my father's passing. To me October is clear and bright, red, yellow, and sunshine. November, on the other hand, is brown and smells of burning leaves. My heart always feels heavier then.
It has been almost thirty years, but it seems like yesterday. The phone call came on the seventeenth of the month from my brother Charlie, who has been dead and gone a good long time himself. I was in a photo session. I could hear the two college girls laughing while I took the call at the reception desk. I hung up the phone slowly, put on a tight smile, and finished making my clients portraits, like nothing happened. This is what I remember about in November.