Memphis Fall

Maybe this is what autumn is supposed to feel like. I’ve been sitting here, staring out the window, nestled into a broken lazy boy chair while watching the glow fade on the brick walls of the apartment buildings across the street as the sun sets. Yesterday it rained and today the clouds hang heavy in the sky, hanging even heavier and lower in the evening like an overly ripe crop ready for harvest.

I’m graciously being allowed to stay in the apartment of four skinny musicians – my brother being one of them. Together, he and I have walked down streets, sidewalks, and grassy hills as my newly purchased, gently used, Converses slap the ground. I’ve never jay walked so much before in my life. A layered super coat of two hoodies and a thin jacket keep the chill out and I bury my hands into the outer jacket’s pockets to secure the belongings there, to keep my hands warm, and to attempt assuming the stature of one who lives in Memphis. I’ve been here two days and I’m already tired of being stared at. I didn’t realize it was so obvious that I’m not from around here. My brother and I avoid sketchy alleyways and everyday I begin to become a little bit more familiar with the vibe of this city. However, I cannot seem to help looking people in the eyes and I am usually rewarded the smile or nod I offer with one in return. This is a strange city.

The trees are just starting to turn color and hints of gold or bright red tinge the edges of leaves. The smell of fresh bread from the Wonderbread and Hostess Factory floats tantalizingly through the air. I asked if they gave tours but was told, “no, they don’t do that anymore.”

So, I settle for a large mug of hot tea and watch the lights turn on in apartment windows as outside the late afternoon sky fades to night. This is a hard city – rich with culture – “the home of blues and the birthplace of rock and roll” – but also a depressed one. A sense of struggle hangs in the air – of beauty and life trying to desperately overcome the oppression and mediocrity that could push the soul into hopelessness. Well, it is a city, after all and I, for one, cannot shake the excitement and sense of anticipation that I hold with each new brick, abandoned building, change of weather, or autumn-tinged tree I discover.