Fall in love, Love in fall.

By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire.

The beautiful orange had turned into a fiery red. Each memory hurt. The pain ran hauntingly from my skin to my veins to my every reason for living, tearing me apart from inside out.

We had met during fall. My favourite season of all times. A season of change, a season that makes you happy even when you are bound to have all kinds of allergies. For me, fall had always been a poignant, self-loving season. It made me humble, more accepting. Just to experience the fall of all beautiful things and welcoming the transition, living the transition, before it all bloomed again, was in itself not only a sight for the sore eyes but a warmth of fire for the dying hope of the heart.

And bloom it did, my love for him. Unexpectedly, unknowingly, when we bumped into each other, little did we know what we would become. Little did I know that I would turn into a coffee person from a tea person. Little did I know that the man who made me feel so much more like myself, accepting me like I was, moving and stirring my soul, would one day leave.

Wearing his favourite cap, holding a cup of coffee, he would talk to me – openly, honestly, no boundaries. We would talk of past events, present scenarios, and future circumstances. We would talk, laugh our hearts out, share our deepest secrets and just be there for each other, with each other, losing ourselves in each other.

The friendship turned into love. Our once unhealed, fallen hearts bloomed and grew.

I remembered how it all started. It was a simple hi yet a soul connection at first sight. I remember how it was cold and dark and I couldn’t get a cab home and so he had offered to drop me home, or at least halfway. I wouldn’t let anyone drop me home – I am cynical that way. I remember how he turned on the radio in his car and it played the good, old, 90s classics. We spoke about music. We spoke about life plans. On the first day. And I never forgot that conversation although I thought I would never see him again. But I did. And he saw me too this time. He made sure he didn’t leave me. He stuck around.

We went on walks. We held hands. We made love. We made each other secure, happy, bold.

It was a perfect fall. And it lasted just as long as seasons do.

The happy memories were disappearing. I was losing them all. Like I was losing my mind.

He told me we are fine, he tried to reassure me. As friends.

He was married. Living two lives. One with me, one with his wife.

I was mad, mad with fury. The fire he had built in my heart turned against him. A rage so wild it could burn every living creature down to ashes in seconds.

I could not understand why a person would live two lives. Why a person needed to cheat but still be with that same person. What was love and what was marriage. Were they all lies?

The happy memories flushed my cheeks, the current realizations drained my heart.

It was as though it was all a lie. The time spent, the conversations we had, the assurances given. It was like he could switch it on and off – his brain, his wants, his needs. He was smart, no doubt, but to a level where you can control so much was scary.

“Ma’am, you okay? We need to close now.”

I heard the pretty little coffee shop owner call me out. I had lost track of time again.

I quickly paid for my coffee and the muffins and stepped out of the quaint little shop. It was just two lanes away from where I was staying, far away from the maddening crowd.

Fall. The roads were covered with beautiful leaves. Yellow, brown, orange, red. Some were covered with ice, some had freshly fallen. I had come to this beautiful countryside cottage to spend some time to recover myself. Every day I came to this café, sat here and I would lose myself in thoughts of my love that I had lost. Every day I was hoping to get over it, get a fresh start.

The few strangers I crossed by everyday smiled and greeted me a good night. Every day I tried to smile back. Today I actually did. I tried to erase it all and find a new start.

Listening to the ruffle of the leaves below my shoes, I was making my way back when I felt a tug on the hem of my pants. Tugging with all his force, a tiny brown eyed puppy looked up at me and barked. Oh my, what a little boy, hardly 2-3 months old!

“What’s your name good boy? Who do you belong to?”

I picked up the little puppy and it started licking my nose and face. There was no one in sight. No houses nearby, no shops other than the one I had been to. He was lost just as I was. I tried to see if I could put him away somewhere safe but there was no place around.

His beautiful face full of love stirred something in me. Looked like he was mine for the night till I found a proper home for him.

He woofed and wagged his tail and ran as I strode along. The dear old caretaker of the cottage saw me come back with the puppy and was overjoyed. She lived right next to the cottage and offered to help with food and water for the pup. The pup was all over the place. It followed me everywhere. A little love given by me was being returned in heaps and tons.

How happy was he to have found me. And how happy was I to have found him, I realized from the little time I spent till then. I hugged the pup and cried. I cried and cried after months of holding back all my tears. The pup whimpered and ran around in circles and settled into my lap. I talked to him like I hadn’t talked to anyone else. It was like he understood my pain, my hurt. He understood it all and all he could do was be there and listen and make me laugh.

He wouldn’t let me change clothes. He pulled my tee and bit my shoes and followed me into my bathtub and stared and growled and barked and talked to me in his own sweet ways. A pup was all I needed. I laughed and I hugged him and I finally fell into a deep slumber after months of restless nights. He was mine for ever, I would adopt him. The little boy slept in peace too. Little did he know that I didn’t save him, he saved me. This time the memories would not be burnt down, this time I won’t burn myself down.

Oh Fall, what a beautiful season. The season when I always find love. Maybe some things don’t last. Maybe some experiences we go through to understand that not everyone is what they seem, maybe everyone is helpless and tied up to their situations. Maybe sometimes love unrequited is better than having it all. And maybe, just maybe, you will find what you are looking for in your favourite season, just not exactly what you were expecting it to be. Some leave, even if they would not want to. Some don’t, even if they could. Fall, making me humble and accepting as every year is to be.