[Note: this is an old post, written in college while Jordan and I were dating. Do not be confused!]
It is morning time, and even before I step outside of my room, I can smell fall. Fall makes me excited. It injects life into my bones with every crisp breeze, thought of apple orchards, and haunted houses.
Last time I was here for fall, I was in love.
It’s hard to say whether I was more in love with life, or with a boy, but the fact stands solid regardless. I was in love. I was swept away by the feelings inside of me, the brassy music of Mumford and Sons, my tires trundling along the road, goldenrod swaying to either side like a golden hall.
I feel echoes of that now, though I am no longer moved to run, to pound my feet against the ground, bare, and go and go and go. I miss that compulsion, but I’m glad that there is peace inside of me.
Wanting him stirred the restlessness in my soul.
Having him settled it.
I wonder if every fall will blow memories of that time into me now. If it will fill me with rich longing–excitement over every tree turned apple-crisp brown, or golden-rod yellow, or burnt umber orange.
I hope so, because I love fall.
And I hope I will always remember what it felt like to run to the beat of music, bright and strong and slow, pulsing in my ears. I hope I always remember standing under the moon with him, the trees tall and thin around us. I hope I always remember the feeling of him taking my hands, guiding my body next to his, teaching me to dance.
To waltz. We waltzed under the stars, and others watched, and asked “What is happening?” Bewildered. They had no idea. The world was spinning faster than they were. It was spinning faster than me and him.
And then afterward, looking. Looking and looking. Measuring everyone up against him.
No one could compare. I knew I wanted him. I knew I wanted someone just like him. But I couldn’t seem to find him, and he seemed so old. So unattainable. So out of my league.
I was wrong, he wasn’t. And now he’s mine. And maybe more importantly, I’m his. And I think I might have found something that will last for the rest of my life. Something once-in-a-lifetime special.
And maybe I’m wrong, and I know we aren’t perfect, but I also know that I want to be with him. Through falls and winters and springs and summers, over icy sidewalks and scorching pavement, grassy knolls and fragrant forests. And right now I miss him, but our relationship has become something that I can hold within myself even when he isn’t here.
Something solid, and warm, and slightly tortured yes, but within me nevertheless. I wish I could have felt that while I was in Australia, but perhaps it’s because they don’t have fall there.
Fall, with its memories of him, rich and vibrant. I can’t wait to hold him again, while leaves fall from the trees and life begins to pause.