Fall is making its way back into my world. The mornings and evenings are marked with a familiar chill. The sky is grey and clouds huddle with threat and promise of rain and thunder. But this early into the seasons’ change, by noon the sky is clear, blue and warm.
Today is her birthday. She will not answer my calls. And that’s ok with me. It’ll have to be.
It’s not what I want, but I’ve been here before. Very soon there will be rain. Thunder. Then the night’s sky will crack open bright with flashes of emptiness. Fall will bring winter. Winter will bring dark, cold and hard nights.
If I’m lucky, I will have been drunk enough that she will not be on my mind. Other nights she will haunt my sleep till the sun drags me from my tangled sheets, heavy circles under my eyes to remind me of the days when she once loved me that will never be again.
When the rain does come, it will be when I am alone in my bed when I’ll see her from way back when. Back to that very first day. She was only a girl. Shy, quiet, thin and with hopeful eyes. I’ll stroll through the years to find her later, when she was still eager to me mine. Then, I’ll keep following her down our path till she could not stand to be alone in the same room with me, much less the same bed.
With every drop of rain, there will be another moment, another day, another year I will be reminded of being without her. But to the rest of the world, the rain will only mean a bad morning commute. I guess that’s what she felt , on our road together, bad traffic. And she pulled sharp to the right to find another way. I’m certain that she’ll find it, if she hasn’t already.
I hope that there’s hope for me too.