Black jeans in autumn

When the chill of fall sets in and the green turns to orange and red, like any human doomed with a sense of wonder and mortality, I surrender myself to the stunning colors. It twists my head how we have these beautiful moments that don’t last forever, and that’s just another day on Earth. You could turn to me and say, “This is such a beautiful time, but it won’t ever happen this way again,” and I’d believe you, and we’d call that another night on Earth. 

On a recent drive back from Boulder, I had the golden colors of October to keep me company. I didn’t plan on my drive to line up with the fall foliage, but I took it as a sign to embrace the views. All the news about our unstable, unwell country will be waiting for me, but I have this moment where my thoughts and the radio can fill the highway and mountains. 

“Autumn,” by The Gaslight Anthem, is a bluesy rock song about pausing and reflecting on moments you can never get back and feeling gratitude despite the pain. Whether it’s time with loved ones who have passed away or reflecting on love and its pending heartbreak, the song shares a bouquet of losses gathered from the passage of time. “All my feelings, they kinda seemed so out to get me/ I always felt like it’s a strange thing just being alive,” sings frontman Brian Fallon in the first verse, before moving into the chorus where the notes ring out: “Because I know someday it’s gonna be all over/ No more spring into summertime/ So, can I hold you underneath October?/ Black jeans in autumn, leaves falling down.” 

I don’t think the song was written for me, but on the drive along Highway 160, it felt like the song was written for me. The bass and drums provide a steady beat, letting the electric guitars glide along, and there’s just enough distortion for the notes to ring out. It sounds like the late-afternoon sun drenching mountains in honey-colored light. And there’s just enough stretch of road to reflect on the last year, all the wrenching days that make me want to disappear versus all the love that keeps me here.  

Something I do regularly is visit my Uncle Hank at his home in Farmington. I check on him to see if he needs groceries or any help with household chores. This year, he’s experienced severe heart issues, and during one recent visit, he told me he’s not sure of how much time he has left. There’s a question mark to the years ahead. More than before, I’m cherishing the time we spend together. With each visit, he shares more memories about his childhood on the Navajo Nation, including stories about my grandfather, David. My uncle has a deep, bold voice that holds gentleness, so even though I’ve never met my grandfather, every time Uncle Hank offers his own stories and wisdom, I can hear Grandpa David speaking through him. I can’t slow down time to allow my uncle to share all his stories, but I can expand my heart where I will keep these stories alive. 

In the second verse of “Autumn,” Fallon sings, “I don’t know what happens to all our favorite, faded memories/ Christmas mornings by the fir tree, and then you’re gone.” That leads into the song’s soulful chorus: “And I know someday, you’re gonna make me lonely/ And maybe someday, I’m gonna make you cry/ Right now, we’re angels in the muddy water.” In each verse, the song holds the loss and regrets of the past and future. By the time the chorus arrives, the narrator acknowledges the inevitability of an ending, but that does not deter them from savoring the holiness and sadness of the present.

And by holiness and sadness, I mean the expanse of golden trees along the road, which is bittersweet because I am driving away from people I care for and want to spend more time with up north, but I am driving back to the part of the world that holds more people I love. And yes, there is an ending to things, maybe it’s tomorrow, but that is so far away right now. And Lord, the leaves right now are painted colors that I imagine mortality and eternity entwined would look like. 

The song ends with Fallon repeating the lines, “Black jeans in autumn, sun going down/ Black jeans in autumn, leaves falling down.” But on that very last line, he stops himself from vocalizing the final word, “down.” Instead, the drummer gently hits the cymbals. The echoing sound does enough to evoke the image of leaves hitting the ground. If Fallon sings the last word, that would mean the song is over. By refusing to do so, perhaps it is his attempt to make a moment of beauty infinite. If the song never ends, we can stay here longer, held in the golden light.