It is now officially autumn.
Of all the seasons, I love spring the best. Or maybe summer. I love how the world comes alive again in the spring, I love to see green again. However, in summertime there’s something sensual about the heaviness in the air, the way skin remains damp no matter what time of day it is, the fireflies that hover in multitudes in between trees in the dusk.
Fall, though, is special. There is the sense of expectancy that I’ve written about. Sometimes it is ominous and foreboding. Sometimes it is hopeful and eager, filled with plans and the knowledge of time spent well. It is often mysterious and is the perfect time of year to ponder Great Things.
The girl who was my best friend for years absolutely loved this time of year. She enthusiastically decorated her house with fall and Halloween paraphernalia. We often went on long drives down deserted dirt roads or over ancient bridges at night just to freak ourselves out. She sent emails on the first day of fall declaring her love for it all over again. It was well known that fall was her time. I could not, and still can’t, pass a place that is filled with the rusty colors of autumn without thinking of her. I pass by salt and pepper shakers in the shapes of fallen leaves and think how perfect they would be for her. I wonder what her house looks like, I wonder if she’s breaking out all of her sweaters, I wonder if she’s planned any trips to the corn maze or pumpkin fields.
I miss her so badly. I think of her every day. I wish I could pick up the phone and call her and just listen to her talk for hours, to catch me up on the past year of her life. I wish I could send her a card saying that I am thinking of her, or just to tell her that she’s in everything I see around me this time of year.
The hardest thing in the world I’ve had to ever do is see the hurt and pain that the people I love most in the world experience because of me. To know that they could have not had to suffer it if I had been different, if I had made different choices, or even if I had never been in their lives. To think that I am remembered by someone who I truly love as a big waste of time or the most horrible time of their lives absolutely kills me. After a year it is not any easier. I still miss her. And I can not tell her that I do. Her life is better off without me.
I don’t know why on earth I am writing this and then putting it on the internet for goodness sake. I wanted to write here honestly and without holds on myself, and so I do. So, world, I miss my best friend from the depths of my heart and I wonder if it will ever let up.