In this case, I mean that quite literally--the fall, as in the season. Usually, I love fall. Even this summer girl needs a break from the heat, and I welcome being able to wear jeans again. I love sleeping with my windows open and apple cider and football and the beauty of the leaves changing. I love the smell of leaves burning and the deeper blue of the sky. But this year, I'm afraid.
I want so badly to move as far as I can away from this spring, so I welcome the passage of time. But memories are tied to our senses, and all of my good (now painful) memories of my past relationship are located in the fall. So will the chill in the air remind me of words whispered and promises made in a different fall, promises that fell to the ground and shattered into a hundred pieces? Will living this fall make last fall seem closer than it really is? Can I go back to only watching my Heels play football and not giving a damn about the SEC? (No offense to my many SEC friends--you are the superior football conference, I just happen to hate one of your members.)
I want to write over the memories that exist for me in September, October, and November. I want to re-record these months with new experiences, new words, new life. I want to live this autumn for what it is, without thinking of what used to be.
The trouble is, I'm not entirely sure how to do that.