Fall has always been special to me. Summer air gives way to cooler nights, making me want to sit under the stars before the winter wind comes. Trees burn red, orange, and yellow against a bright blue sky. The season is a fleeting gift that can pass me by if I don’t take a moment to witness it. And when I do, I try to breathe in the all crisp air around me. It used to fill me with hope and anticipation for good things to come.
Maybe that’s because we fell in love in the fall. Gage first told me he loved me one weekend at a friend’s cabin. Wrapped in his arms and the late afternoon light, I began to fall asleep. The warmth and weight of his body next to me had me sinking deeper into our bed as I slid even closer to him. His rough beard tickled my neck when his hot whisper reached my ear.
“I love you.”
My eyes flew open to stare at the pine-lined walls of our small room. The past two months of dating Gage had me spinning, but this was a whole new level of nerves. He was always so strong and sure about his feelings for me that my mind couldn’t build walls fast enough to protect myself. With each new wall he’d patiently hold his ground until I saw reason. Then he would give me that cocky, little-boy smile as if to say, “see, I know what I’m talking about.”
He was always right when it came to our love. Of that, I have no doubt considering our fifteen years together before he died. A force to be reckoned with, he took my life in directions I would have never dreamed of, including motherhood. Now as his birthday is coming up – another one he will never celebrate with me – fall takes on a new and complex meaning.
My body instinctively responds to the season and memories, conjuring up a hopeful feeling that conflicts with the constant hum of my loss. It doesn’t matter how many years have gone by. I still love him, but he’s not here to love me back. My life continues on without him, but my heart doesn’t forget him.
I never thought I’d end up here, but this is where I am, trying to figure out how to love fall again.
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