Autumn is one of my favourite seasons; the crisp mornings, colourful trees and drinking hot tea that warms your belly after a stroll through the cold forest. I am putting on a jumper, boots and a jacket to leave the house and to breathe in the autumn air. I open the front door and a warm stream of air that feels like the blow dryer I sometimes use to dry my hair, hits my face. The sun shines in my eyes, a small girl in a blue dress and a boy in a red T-shirt are running on the street, playing. I turn around, go back inside, take off my jacket and change into a T-shirt that I had packed away, together with my other summer clothes beneath my bed. Once I am back outside, I continue my walk. My neighbour across the street greets me: “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”. I smile and agree, then I continue walking while the children around me are playing. Everyone seems happy. Then my eyes catch the trees at the end of the road. Usually strong, tall and green I can’t help but think that they look different. The leaves are turning a different colour, but it’s not the yellow that I remember from my childhood autumns, when I was playing hide and seek behind them. They are dry. Curling up. The whole tree looks thirsty. Another person is greeting me, saying “what a beautiful day”. I smile back, but this time it takes more effort to curl my mouth into a smile.
I turn right at the corner and sit down at a little café. While I look at the menu, I notice two girls next to me. They are talking about their latest shopping haul and the latest trends. On the ground below their table, I see countless plastic shopping bags, containing too many clothes to ever wear. Ready to fill a wardrobe full of ‘nothing to wear’s’, just like mine. They are talking about flying to London for the weekend. I take out my phone and open a social media app. Forest fires in California and Canada. I scroll down. Flooding in Eastern Europe. I scroll down. An advertisement of a huge company promoting their supposed environmental efforts. I put my phone down. The sun is burning on my forehead like flames licking my skin. Then I hear the voice of the little girl with the blue dress, who was playing on my street before: “My dad says you can’t wait for a prince to come save you, you have to be your own hero”, she announces proudly to the boy next to her. The words echo within me. A waiter approaches my table and beams at me: “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” This time, I can’t smile back.
