Leaves like fire

By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire . Those reds, oranges and yellows. All cascading through the sky, dancing with the wind in their intricate dresses. Autumn  was here. The season of colour. 

  I stepped out of my dad's car ready to say goodbye for the rest of the week. His rusty blue door shut with a squeak and I waved as he rode off into the distance with the dancing leaves. 

 Mums house was cosy, the outside white with orange framed windows, it fits perfectly with the season of autumn. The trees on either side with orange leaves matching the frames. It was beautiful. My small feet patted against the gravel pathway as I made my way towards the front door. My fists knocked on the door as they do this way every week, except this week it was 

different, it was the first week of autumn! There was lots to do, pumpkin carving, getting ready for Halloween, last school years books organising and of course, leave sweeping. I was looking forward to it!

 “ Oh hello,” my mother's frail voice announced. Her red hair matching the weather and curtaining her face. “ how’ve you been, come on in.”

I followed her inside and flopped on one of the velvet blue sofas, a very traditional move. 

“ I’m good ma, how are you?”

“ Oh I’m good too. You excited autumn is finally here?”

“ Of course, I love autumn so much. Just look at the beautiful, colourful firey leaves and the breeze is so fresh and… and… and autumny.”

“ Oh,” she gave a chuckle, “ I always knew autumn was your special season, sounds as if you are describing yourself. Firey red hair and personality but a nice fresh breeze.” 

I smiled, my mum looks much like myself except she’s nice, kind and calm. 

“ How was it at your dad’s?” She asked, she hates talking about Michael but she is so kind and considerate that she always asks me anyway. 

“ Yeah it was wonderful thanks for asking.” I replied. It was the same answer I came every time, in fact this was what happened every week, ( except for the autumn questions). I knock on the door, my mum answers, I come inside and flop  on the sofa then all these questions and answers. ( All of which are always the same.) None of us say anything about it though, my mum likes to keep this tradition, it is a sign of normality for her since in her life a lot isn’t normal. She was diagnosed with cancer just a few months ago. When I found out, my heart sunk, deeper than when I found out my parents were splitting up. It was almost as if it hadn’t stopped sinking at all but carried on travelling though my back and out of my body. It was a tough time but my mum helped me to get through it, I know it should’ve been the other way round with me helping my mum but I wasn’t brave at all, just like my mum wasn’t. My mum was never a brave person I can admit that, but she’s facing it so well. She’s become brave. It was sad though because dad still comes to visit her but she wants nothing to do with him.( Long story short he cheated). She has inspired me so much and her motto has now become mine, “ what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” she sees this as a sign to become more brave and face the world. I see it as that too as before I said that she wasn’t that brave. So things haven’t been normal for the past few months and probably won’t be for quite some time, so keeping these questions and answers makes me feel like I’m gifting her. 

“ What did he give you for dinner?” Her next question was.

“ Prawns with white rice,” was my answer. Prawns with white rice is my favourite dish which is why my dad makes it for me every time I go to his house. I love how the prawns and the rice look so aesthetic and taste so divine, it is, in my opinion, not an  insipid dish at all. 

“ Did you sleep alright hon,” the ritual continued.

“ Yes, it was lovely in my bed at dad’s house and I slept fine.”

“ Very well,” she nodded her head, “ go put your stuff away upstairs and I will make you some snacks.”

 I made my way slowly to my room to drop off my bag and things. Trailing my finger along the crusty white painted railing. I remember when dad painted them, we did it together. Mum was out at the time and it was just him and I. Although it was just one railing, it took ages to paint, mainly due to the fact that dad and I were just messing around. Mum was always the serious one in the relationship, always saying, “ school is very important, make sure to study hard and get good grades,” or, “ don’t mess around, if you are bored go read a book or do extra work,” or sometimes lectures would come out. My dad was always the chill one, letting you relax and have fun. Seeing the bright side of things. When we were painting he painted my nose as a joke and then I painted all over his face and it became a war. Eventually, we finished the rail and when mum came home she was so pleased with it that she got us all takeaway for dinner that night. ( This also might’ve been because we were so busy painting that we’d forgotten to prepare dinner). 

I entered my lilac walled rooms, and once again flopped , but this time on my queen sized bed. I sighed out, a sigh of relief. One long sigh, I was home with mum, everything would be alright, it was autumn, the leaves were like fire. 

Suddenly, a scream came from downstairs. The shock drowned me. I sprinted down to see what it would be.