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I quietly walk the leafy pathway to my home, revealing in the fall glory. I may not live in the best neighborhood, but it certainly has the best trees. I stop and lean against one, looking up at the yellow and orange leaves that wave against the blue sky, quivering with the gentle caress of the wind. I shiver, pulling my cardigan close around me, and imagine the touch of the wind through my hair is him, running his fingers through the silken auburn strands.

He always loved my hair. I had thought he loved many things about me. I slowly look down at my wrists. They bear no visible markings, but if longing could work wonders, then there would be scars there. I had fallen apart after he told me he didn’t want me, I had spent hours on the bathroom floor, daring myself to lift a razor and commit the ultimate sacrifice.

Suffice to say, I didn’t do it. I’m glad. The pain is hard to bear, but there are so many things that life has to offer me. Looking again to the leaves above me, then to the piles that surround my feet, I smile and think that this is only the 24th time that I’ve ever seen the fall. That even if I live to be 100 years old, I’ll only witness this miraculous change 100 times.

How sad it seems when you put it that way. People take autumn for granted, but every year autumn pulls to me. It’s a sacred time for me. I reach up, touching a hand to my hair. It’s shorn now, a statement against him, I suppose. But I like it, all the same, it’s stylish and fashionable. It suits me. I start walking again, kicking out the leaves and letting them arc through the crisp air to land in piles of assorted colours.

I see a recently raked pile and walk over, then fall backwards into it, laughing as the sky tumbles before me and I land, breath thrown slightly from my lungs, leaves covering me. I stand again quickly, so I’m not seen, and brush the leaves from me and head towards my home again.

My heartstrings pull at the beauty around me, and for the first time, the pain begins to subside. I will get on without him. I won’t be left for ruin. I can make myself something incredible, and have a better life than he could ever have imagined. I will go on. I swirl a leaf by it’s stem in my fingers, eyes flitting over the veins underneath the red-orange surface.

I’m getting over it…

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