October has begun, the planets have shifted, the sun is starting to hide behind the clouds again.
A flood brings together a fork in a river that was created many moons ago. Two streams, running parallel for miles, cease to exist. It all comes back again.
Wipe the dirt off your glasses. Pop out the glass. Your eyes have changed, this old prescription is only a blur.
The coat you hid in your closet for the warmer months is slung over the back of a dining room chair. Later, when you put it on for the first time, you will find a note in the pocket. Tears will flow from your eyes when you read it. It’s waited for you a long time, but it seems you have changed too much for it.
A loud crash comes from the living room. It seems as if the cat has finally knocked it over. You’ve been telling yourself it would be safer in the corner of the room, but you’ve been putting it off. You cancel your plans, you’ve got rearranging to do.
The phone rings. It’s the universe speaking. “It’s time to give yourself a break.”
The plot of the book you’re reading is in knots. It’s okay to ask me if you don’t understand. You’ll see that I don’t mind spending time with you. You’ll see that you are not alone. It only takes a question.
You can stand in the sun while it’s raining, you just need to figure out how. And do not care for those who do not want to share their umbrella or lemonade with you. There is no room for that in this photo.
The hands you hold, they must be soft and warm. Do not fret; they will find their way to you. It’s time to walk the paths you have avoided for so long. The brightly coloured leaves will envelop you in gentle kisses. The breeze will bring them all to you.
You have finally found the motivation to clear out the rot that sits in the bottom drawer of your fridge. You promise yourself to never let it come back again.
Don’t feel bad about burrowing a nest, this is the time to do it. Surround yourself with warmth; there will only be so much of it during the coming cold. Don’t feel ashamed of the tea you have brewing. Wrap your cold hands around your mug and breathe in the steam.
Pull up your turtle-neck. Carry home on your back. Do not hide out only out of fear of the world; it’s carrying birthday candles and balloons behind its back for you.
The last of this years’ flowers will bloom. When you see them, you will think of someone, and I will think of you.
A squirrel darts across the road on your way home. You wonder: where is it going? You wonder: where am I going? And who is going with me?
A whirlwind of butterflies storm through your head. Don’t you think it’s time to let them out? Open your mouth and let them surround those around you. They will brush past skin, let the hair on the back of necks come on edge.
Take only what you can carry, and take it far. Mind you: you can only do so much.
Put out a call. You do not need to go alone.
A silence falls over your home. You are in the eye of the hurricane, a hurricane that falls apart around you. It ceases fire; the chaos settles.
You roll up your sleeves. You begin to move the debris that has surrounded your house and to clear a path through the street. You think of all the things you can build with all this scattered material.
It seems the wind has knocked your heart out of your chest. It’s okay, I’ll help you find it. I will be gentle and bring it back to you in one piece.
The static on the radio clears up. The sun is shining on the other side of town again.
The fog is clearing up. Ahead, a light flashes. A voice calls out to you. Once again, your blood begins to flow warmly. The tide has turned, the wind has fallen. Your ears pop. The sun has come up again.
The notebook you have been writing in is on its last page. You write the date at the bottom and hide it on the highest shelf. A fresh new page awaits you. It seems brighter than the last one was.
The match you held only a minute ago has burned, only a small tip remaining unburnt. There was no reason to burn past words.
A to-do list falls out of your pocket. The list wraps around itself five times over. The calm before the storm will only last so long.
A door slams shut. Somewhere else in the house a doorway collapses. All the curtain rods in your house lie on the floor. You have nowhere to hide anymore.
You swish your feet back and forth in a creek. The water is so cold, but it’s so soothing. You are torn between serenity and pain. How do you compromise?
Goosebumps have held your skin in a death grip. Can you remember what it was like without them? Do not fret. They will settle and you will fall into your skin once more.
Your lungs feel constricted. Your blood demands more blood. Have you thought of taking deeper breaths?
While you are sitting by your desk, the phone rings. The tension falls out of your fingers and you feel lighter.
There’s something hiding in your eyes and it gives you away. Before you know it, it falls out of your mouth. It gets carried off in the wind, but I’ve already seen it. And I will tell you that there is nothing wrong with it. Please take me at my word. There are more things waiting to be dealt with before you can release them.
A ladder is standing in your backyard. It does not go anywhere, except up.
Your shins hurt. It’s a pain you haven’t had since you were a kid. You wonder why it has come back. You think: am I not done growing?
The gas tank in your car is full. A playlist you made ages ago is in the glove compartment. When you tell me you have an overwhelming urge to go, I’ll ask you go where? And this is when you take the keys and leave. You know this is for yourself and no one else. You leave your cellphone on the kitchen counter.
The airport lost your bag. A month-long stint in a foreign country with only your carry-on. A shiver crawls down your spine. You feel so much lighter.
The cat chases something across the room. It lands at your feet. When you reach down to grab it and send it off again, you do a double take. You haven’t seen this in years and now you remember how you never came around to dealing with it.
Please speak to me, before you cannot anymore. I have something to say, and you know it will mean more than you initially thought it did. It will make every last seed of the season bloom.
You’ve let yourself revolve around everyone else but you. You crave the rays of light on your skin, not the other way around. Be careful; you can still get burned.
Your boots are standing in the hallway. The dried mud on it has been there for months. Your feet ache with anticipation. Don’t think twice: slip on those thick socks and go.
When you get home, the curtains are still wide open. The warm sunlight falls into your home at an angle you’ve never seen before. You pick up the phone. This is the type of warmth you will never forget to share.