The cold is just starting to set in now. The leaves are are parading beautiful shades of amber, crumbly cinnamon brown and crackling crimson red; they know it’s their time to go. In parting this world, they leave a colourful mark on ours. The air is fresh, cold and snappy. The scent of Autumn fills my lungs, tumbles through my being and consumes me. This is still my favourite time of year. The leaves are falling, I am too.
With mucky boots, scarves and hats, we venture through the colours and smells. As we stroll the down these crimson roads with a foliage rooftop protecting us from any wind; the colours saturate our path and drown out any sign that summer was here. These outings help me make sense of the thoughts in my head, the photographs help me mould the thoughts and work out where they are supposed to be.
My chosen adventure companion’s create a space for me to just be – with my thoughts and with my loss. As we walk, we talk and laugh, our chatter is the only sound around for miles. Its pleasant and warm and it pulls me from my own head. Its moments like this I wish I could wrap myself up in and hibernate inside.
The season seems to soothe my sadness, the time of year when everything is dying, decaying and fall apart. It seems like an appropriate time for mourning. Mourning life, mourning her life. The branches are bare now, they have lost their protection from the upcoming winter months, they know its going to be hard. We know that like clockwork, springtime will arrive again. With her youthful, bright seduction the frozen rivers will run freely and the fields will bloom; we just have to wait.
And.. while I wait, through the long winter months, I can only really try focus on each day at at time; each minute at a time. With great loss, grief and sadness comes an exhaustion I can’t overcome and an emptiness I cannot fill; try though I may; one day at a time.
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