beautiful season again

My yard, well technically it's not "my" yard, is covered with golden leaves. This makes me happy.
My smile makes me even happier. I am happy that I can feel this pure kind of pleasure again. Feels like being reborn. Feels like the world actually does not abandon me.
And my smile makes another person smile, which is the best thing in the world.

The first time I found my smile could affect a person was when I sat down under a tree ten years old. It would've been perfect if that tree grew golden leaves. Season changing is the best thing in the Northern East of the States.

There is a tree at the heart of Penn State campus. That tree gives a golden blanket like the tree in my yard.
I liked to visit the tree everyday in the season of Fall for 5 years. It was just plain beautiful. It was just a smile maker.



For the past couple months, I have had conversation with this sunny boy, who often times gives wise comments. He is weird and calm. Totally. So I like him.
He reminds me of people I met when I was 19 and when I was 25. He is not mere a mixture of characters, but quite a character.
He is beautiful. And I like to stare at him. I want to stare at him before the season of him ends.
I am wondering if he disappears too, when does the season come again? Or ever again?
How long can I stare at him? Measuring by year or by month?

He questions me.
All the time.
Which makes me think.
When I think, he questions me more and makes me laugh and I think more and I feel happy and I think more.
The conclusion often is I think too much and should have stopped when started laughing.
This kind of thinking is quite healthy.
This kind of thinking is to give myself an illusion of being grounded instead of make myself a unhappy whiner.
Feeling grounded is awesome!

Suddenly I am afraid that I am not going to see him again. So I stare at him more. Perhaps therefore I think even more and too much more.
But the sad truth is the nature of my life is unstable, is ungrounded, which really upsets me.
All these years, seeing people come and go, in and out of my life, tires my soul and slows down the process of me getting excited about new things.
Somehow, new things won't stay long enough to be old.

What can I do?
When the beautiful season goes, just wait for it to come again.
May I just bravely make it stay?
But if it has to fade, I cannot do anything. I have to live in a place where I am sure the beautiful season will come again.