Red Leaf Warning

When I lived in Western Pennsylvania, finding my first red maple leaf in mid-August always sent me into despair. Oh no. Summer was coming to an end. The days were growing shorter and the mornings were growing darker. Soon school would start and I would be beset by routines and schedules and commitments. I would lose the lovely sense of freedom and light-heartedness that was synonymous with summer.

Last week I read that optimistic women live longer, healthier lives than pessimistic ones. Optimistic women are less likely to develop heart disease while women with “cynical hostility” are at a higher risk for heart disease and for dying in general. This worries me. Not that I’m hostile. Or even particularly negative. I could likely scrounge up a handful of witnesses to testify than I am a positive person, someone good about dusting herself off and moving forward. But optimistic?

Optimistic people are morning people, aren’t they? Not someone like me, who when roused, prays oh, please God, don’t let it be morning yet. Someone who despairs over a red leaf. Hardly optimistic. Optimistic women are the ones you see in commercials. The ones smiling over their first cup of coffee, smiling before they’ve taken one single sip. The ones doing yoga on the patio as the sun rises. The ones running with their dogs as mist wisps from the meadows. The ones stretching and sighing and gazing out their bedroom window like . . . Well, like they are in a television commercial. The only time I smile in the morning is when I realize I can stay in bed a while longer.

This weekend, back in Pennsylvania for a family event, little red maple leaves littered our campsite. “Oh, look, fall is coming,” I said as I gathered up a leaf. “What a pretty shade of red.”

Perhaps there is hope for me after all.