Fall
Sunday, November 11, 2012 x 1:42 AM
The daylight hours have grown shorter,
and there has been a quite noticeable temperature drop.
I shiver slightly as I open the closet doors,
anxious for something to keep me warm with,
only to be greeted by that olive green wool-blend sweater you got me last winter.
(How long has it been since that time when nothing came close to the warmth of your snuggle?)
I put it on.
Bien sûr.
Autumn has been quick in presenting itself,
and, this season,
as in any other season succeeding that particular season of our encounter,
I love you.
I break the routinely tragic flow of my mornings and head outside.
I feel a leaf touch my left arm. Orange. I look down and see leaves of the same shade. Others a bright scarlet; others, matte gold. I, then, think of the three most comical reasons why you left me:
(1) It was the start of spring when you first said you loved me, and the near end of spring when you told me off. Was this how poetic you were? Love has sprung. Love has eventually fallen;
(2) The colors of the leaves have changed with the transition of seasons. A trigger for your sudden change of heart, perhaps;
(3) Or, maybe you were a bird, secretly. My fridge had been empty for a good while, so you decided to head South and seek someone with a better-than-nothing, less empty fridge.
Hah.
In reality, however, there was only one obvious reason:
Feeling, simply, exhausted you.
Hours, days, weeks, and months of continuous release of affection, on you, had the opposite effect: The "release" had only made your heart swell,
further and further,
until there was no room for pending releases; until all air had been blocked of passage.
As I walk back home,
seeing old neighbors raking leaves and stacking firewood,
and young ones taking turns in football catch,
I realize that, when it ended back then, I so badly wanted to hurt you,
yet, I knew I never could.
And, now,
as I sit on my couch,
holding a hot cup of your favorite apple cider and a platter of homemade donuts,
know that I am just waiting --
I have always been waiting --
for you to knock again on that door. Labels: fall, love
