Grasshoppers Sing for the Lonely
Fall is the forgotten season. Squished between summer and winter, only remembered when the ice cold wind cuts through too thin jackets and snowflakes are caught in eyelashes, it passed.
I believe grasshoppers sing for the lonely. The rubbing of his legs in a provocative manner to attract a mate is comforting. Throughout the day when the minutes seem to just fly by, the grasshopper is nowhere to be heard. Fall, the season trees loose their leaves and the last of the flowers die, when spring romances dim and die out, the grasshopper plays his song for the broken hearted.
I believe life is a piece of fiction. Fairy tale endings do exist and people live happily ever after, but the same sad song is played for them. I, sometimes, find myself alone and lonely in the midst of a crowd. The chirp-chirping drumming in my head, accompanying the steady rhythm of my heartbeat.
Digging for the last potatoes, I remember that I will be leaving soon; going back home. My summer in Europe is coming to a close, like the leaves on a tree in fall, everything falling too fast. My grandma tries to make the best out of the situation, promising us that we will return next summer, but the empty promise is harsher than any cold winter. That night as I sat outside attempting to inhale as much as I could from the world around me, a quiet song played from beneath the apple tree.
As life flies by, the grasshoppers music is drowned out, only to be replaced with excited conversations and shuffling feet. Once night falls and stars illuminate the sky, his song is more powerful than ever, repeating the same, familiar tune.
Next time he plays his song, I won’t try to step on him, I will be grateful that he has come play a comforting tune and keep me company. This I believe.
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