Written Through These Amber Eyes

September 22, 2021 

Dear Autumn,

 Please be kind to me. Life is finally moving towards the bright side of things. I am in a brand-new state, mentally and physically. Most nights, I don’t feel like I’m going to make it. I’ve grown to find comfort in fight-or-flight situations, and I know that’s not normal.

Most importantly, I’ve decided to take time to love myself rather than give my all to everyone else. So, I know it won’t be lonely forever. This letter will remind me of when I decided to trust the process.  

Love always,

My younger self.

Here’s the story I didn’t know I was writing. I’m thankful but frightened of the number of ideas flowing through my head. I’m grateful that those around me will listen to my silly tangents and ideas. These entries may not ever grow into something, but I appreciate everyone that takes a glance into my notebooks. So here it goes, enjoy. 

  It’s a cup of coffee in my shaky hand as I walk across this farmers market alone. People’s smiles and “Hellos” are always welcome, but I know I’m about to go home alone and take this flannel off until next Sunday. However, it’s time for the seasonal spirit or seasonal depression, and tonight I’m taking myself on a date to the pumpkin patch. The lights shine just as bright even when you’re alone at night. My life was okay without anyone. A whiskey here and there, Friday nights at the same café bar, typing away on this laptop, listening to the surrounding conversations, and occasionally looking up to the black and white movie playing above.

 A year has passed, and now it’s time I watch the leaves fall all at once, just like my heart, while I watched her walk down those blue stairs. Her eyes of sage popped by the color of her green sweater. She’s a taste that’s crisp and clean. Autumn is the best time to take a bite of a fresh apple. But, for her, crisp apples weren’t the case. Instead, she breathed me in harsh like cinnamon; before she could catch her breath, we sprinted through the season aimlessly, illustrating these futuristic illusions to leave us both in a fever dream. The time spent together went by like a scene in a movie when they cascade through many days in one song.  

The candles burn the same I still stare at the dancing flames until I fall asleep. The same way the kittens watched over us on the windowpane, I remember the giddy feeling I had walking past that window whenever I’d come over to you smiling on the other side. Although they’d also watch me walk away to my car every day, and I didn’t kiss her goodbye the last morning, I tucked the blanket along with her while sneaking out of bed. I didn’t know how significant this morning would be. Now that I think about it, every morning that I drove off pulled us farther and farther away. Even though our grip couldn’t get any tighter, the phone calls couldn’t get any longer, or the way our limbs magnetically intertwined, all because opposites attract.  I couldn’t fathom my life if any of that changed.

 Now I often wish it was all a dream because now when I close my eyes, she is walking down the aisle, hair pulled away from her porcelain face, and she takes in a fresh breath of air. There’s simplistic white, black, and green décor all around. Her daddy gave her a little something blue to wear this morning, and I see it sparkling as I fight the tears from coming out of my eyes. All that’s left is our unspoken vows and the intricacy of our rings.

 That’s when I woke up.  

It’s just me, watching the leaves fall from the trees.

 I replay her voice repeatedly in my mind.

 “If it happens now, it will only be a couple weeks of pain.”

Although the feeling I had as I watched her walk down those blue stairs, I swore she felt it too because anytime I had that same look across the room, she acknowledged this unexplainable feeling. The way that green sweater made her green eyes pop most nights, I reminisce listening to “Sparks Fly” by Taylor Swift in the car, and it feels like it all happened yesterday. I can blink to our first date while fidgeting with straw wrappers and having no idea of how calm we could feel with each other. Turn the page to Christmas day, and at the end of the chapter, it’s New Year’s; then and there, I swore there wouldn’t ever be another year started without looking into those green eyes. Every day in between was important, but I specifically felt the excitement thinking about when I was talking to my mother on the phone. I told my mother about the flowers I put together as a valentine’s gift. Later, I would tell her how the kittens had a hay day with the flowers. But I would never talk about how I couldn’t comprehend the profound significance of a gift given to me that day that unimaginably opened my heart. During those rapid-paced months of preparing for many hellos and goodbyes, we didn’t miss any beat of leaving something to haunt us while we split our separate ways.

September 22, 2022

Dear Autumn,

Your approach is always subtle until it’s not. My journal from the beginning of this season last year is horrid. I think there are even tears on some of the pages. I’m not one to say kindness is weakness, although as the leaves fell from the trees, the kindness and weakness sent me tumbling down an incredible path. This is just a reminder to trust the process.  

Love always,

My younger self.

End.