Of Autumn Foilage and Nucular Science...

When I was young, we would often go for long drives, sometimes to escape the heat, sometimes to forget domestic quarrels, sometimes to see events around the city from the security of the car and sometimes just to escape the city noise for a bit of tranquility. We would pile into the car, armed with tapes of our music, prepared to battle over whose tape we would play. These family excursions, sometimes quiet, sometimes loud, were quite special. It was a time for the family to bond, whether in silence only to utter a few sentences about the surroundings or whether animatedly discussing the events in our lives.

Time passed. For me, it was university that dragged me out of that nucleus; for my sister, it was marriage. And then yesterday, on Thanksgiving day, my mum insisted that we go out for a drive. Again, we all piled into the car. It was a quiet drive - my parents, my sister and her husband, and I. We marvelled at the lovely colours of the autumn foliage - red, maroon, yellow, orange, green... The fading sun lent a dim light that saved the colours from all mixing into darkness, a dying glow.

As I sat in the backseat of our minivan, I began to reminisce. It was like being transported back to when I was 8. I remembered how my mother would feed me with her own hands, how she would tuck me into bed with a hot-water bottle under my feet to warm me on winter nights, how she'd squeeze my hand when I put my hand in hers while walking.

When we got back home, I told my mum that I want to move out.