Autumn Emotion

Here I am with you. We rustle the leaves as we stroll. We pretend it’s just part of the walk. Adults don’t swish the leaves. That’s for children.

But we all kick the leaves on purpose.

You say the thing to say: “The color in the leaves is so beautiful.” Your words have no lie in them. Your offering is real.

“Yes it’s wonderful. The changing colors make it all worth while. I love this time of year,” I say, convincing you of my heart for this world.

I love this time of year. I do. I love this time of year… don’t I? Don’t I love the colors and the changing of the seasons?

But you can’t see my heart. You can’t see it sink into the corner of what room it has left. You can’t see me hide against the wall, a long breath heaves over my shoulders.

Cold and alone again. That’s what I see in the colorful leaves. I look up at the Bellingham skies overhead to see The Calendar looking back, mocking my lively footsteps through the autumn substrate. It has every right to mock them. Each one is a lie. But The Calendar lies too. January smiles a smirky smile. A “new year” is around the corner. But nothing new comes of January. More dark hours. More lonely scribblings on my laptop. The Calendar mocks me.

I plead with myself. I tell myself that it will be fun. Cold nights mean a good book by the fire. Hot tea and friends for board games… if they come. Warm scarves and all the best winter dress. I always looked my best in a New York scarf and black leather gloves.

But no. That all won’t really matter. Ten minutes of tea and I’m still alone. Twenty-five minutes of reading by the fire and my skin is still the only skin. Two hours of Disney’s best. I sat alone to watch it.

This is the nature of this season for me. It is beautiful. It is hateful and lonely.

Dark. My heart heaves in the corner.

“Yes, it’s wonderful,” I confirm. The Calendar becomes the wind and joins us to rustle the leaves. Then I smile at you, and you know for sure that I love this time of year.