The Fall of Her Summer

The Fall of Her Summer

By Sonesta Wilde

It was that time of the day again when the moon kissed the sun, and the horizon was painted with a soft golden hue. Even during Vacation, Amelia couldn't help but rise before the crack of dawn with her list of the day's to-dos already in hand. From the cozy balcony of their rented villa, perched on a humbling hill, Amelia stared out into the depths of the Picasso sky, sipping her chamomile and lavender tea. To her right, the blossoming hibiscus sat close by in its cracked flowerpot it called home - as though keeping her company like a neighboring friend. Far beyond the eager blooms, there was an ancient town basked in the brushstrokes of the morning's first light. To her left, she witnessed the calm, reflective waters— a mirror to the unfolding sky above— known as the enchanting Mediterranean Sea.

Thinking about the summer and soaking it all in, Amelia murmured to the hibiscus, “For most, this season is the crescendo of the year - vibrant, full of life, promise, and warmth. But for me, this year, summer was its fall. Sometimes, I would forget that it was summer at all. Now, as we transition into the time when the leaves wither away and the plants retreat into their shells, I accept that the glow of my summer had been eclipsed. The weeks of brightness for you felt like shadows to me, the warmth on your roots felt like coldness in my aching heart, and every joy and new bloom felt like an impending sorrow."

She took a soothing sip from her cup, embracing the warmth of her tea, swirling the remains to the rhythm of the cool breeze. Reflecting, it had been two years since Elliot was ripped from the world, like a tree severed from its roots. They always say, "time heals." "But when does it truly heal?” She pondered. Amelia began to feel that time was merely an illusion or, as Elliot often quipped: "a social construct." "Perhaps he was onto something," she mused. She had come to understand that grief didn't adhere to any clock. It lingered, asserting itself at the most unexpected and often inconvenient moments, turning brilliant sunrises into bellowing night skies.

Just as winter yields to spring, there has been a change. A gentle shift in the winds of her wounded heart. "In recent weeks, there's been a whisper of the old me peeking through. "This vacation," she reflected, "is meant to be the dawn, the finale of spring, and the rebirth of my summer, a new chapter of my life. I can’t wait for what is in store for us."

Reed had shown the patience of a farmer tending to a struggling crop, remaining a steadfast rock amidst the tumultuous waves of her sorrow. This trip symbolized their fresh start, an opportunity to rebuild and bond without the overshadowing specter of her past. It was their moment to bury what was behind and cultivate a foundation for a blooming future. 

As she spoke to her leafy listener, Reed, fresh from his morning shower, stepped onto the balcony. Wrapping his arms around her, he felt the depth of her words pulse through the strength of his unusually soft hands. 'Mia,' he whispered, 'I've seen the changes, the way you've been talking to yourself, much like you have with that geranium over there in its unsightly pot.' I understand you feel things are improving, and I can tell you are feeling lighter. However, I still worry about the weight you carry with you," Reed said with concern."

Understanding her grief, he continued, "Grief is powerful. It can play tricks on the mind. But remember, I'm here. We're here. And this is our reality. If you need someone to talk to, I am right here; I've always been here."

Amelia, previously bright-eyed, now with her emotions simmering just below the surface, corrected Reed, “It's a hibiscus.”

Reed's eyes revealed his vulnerability as he replied, "I'm sorry. I'm doing my best. I know how much you love plants, and I was trying to connect with you. But you're right. I see it now."

Amelia turned to face him, feeling guilt for having corrected him, mixing with the weighted blanket of her emotions. Her eyes seemingly glistened with unshed tears. The memories of her past lover, Elliot, and the raw pain of his loss hovered in the air between them like a crow circling its prey. Reed, even with his clammy hands, gently wiped away a lingering tear beneath her left eye, holding her gaze as if her life depended on it, silently vowing to brave this storm alongside her, no matter how prolonged or treacherous.

After her brief moment with Reed, Amelia cast an eager glance past Reed's broad shoulders. Her gaze settled on a lone figure on the distant shore, its familiar silhouette sending a jolt of recognition through her. It felt akin to a loyal dog's intense anticipation and joy at the first distant sounds of its master returning home after a dog-long day. She recognized that walk, the way his hair danced with the wind—a posture as if sculpted by Roman gods. Her heart fluttered wildly, echoing rhythms from a late-night rave. Her tea, with only a few sips left, sat forgotten on the table.

It couldn't be... Could it?

Amelia's heart raced like a prize horse at the tracks as the familiar silhouette on the shore beckoned memories she thought she'd finally tucked away. Realizing she was being tugged away by this quiet, intimate moment she had just shared with Reed, it was impossible, yet every cell in her bones screamed that it was Elliot. The same posture—she couldn’t get over the posture—the way his hands moved when he talked, the familiar cadence of his laugh carried by the wind. That laugh could turn a dark night of ruins into a cloudless day of sunshine.

Shaking her head, Amelia tried to chase away the illusion. "This is what Reed keeps talking about. Maybe he wasn't wrong." It was a trick of her grieving mind, a manifestation of her unresolved emotions and the holes that wouldn’t seem to fill. She had come on this vacation with Reed, her anchor in the storm that followed Elliot's death, seeking closure and a new beginning. But her curiosity got the best of her; she had to find out for sure. Amelia's feet moved on their own, propelling her off the balcony, through the living space, and down the stairs of the loft. The echoing of her hurried steps, blended with the rapid beats of her heart, sang out to Reed like a cry for help.

Just as she was about to rush out, Reed's voice called out, pulling her back into reality. "Mia, are you okay?" Paralyzed by disbelief and perhaps a bit of shame, she looked up to see Reed hovering over the edge of the banister, concern evident in his eyes. As she ran upstairs to him, she knew he wouldn't believe the words she wanted to spill out. But by the time she made it back to the balcony and turned her gaze to the shore, the figure seemed to have vanished, leaving her in a whirlwind of confusion and longing.

With each passing day, Amelia experienced more of such moments. The trace of a familiar cologne wafted past her in an unusually crowded cobblestoned marketplace; a voice softly hummed their cherished song at a café; an unexplained touch on her shoulder occurred when she was absolutely certain she was alone. Every encounter lured her further into the alley of her past memories of her former lover, pushing her present with Reed far beyond the rugged mountains of the island and into the turquoise waters—surprising for a vacation that should have been the peak time for them to bond in this incredible getaway.

Reed, always attuned to Amelia's moods, felt the growing distance between them. One evening, as the golden sun painted the sky, mimicking the morning's hue, they dined on a vine-covered terrace overlooking the infinite stretch of azure sea. He reached across the table, taking her hand just as one might during a marriage proposal. "Mia," he ventured, his voice drenched in empathy, "I can sense you drifting as if you are being pulled by the deep currents of the past. I understand the weight of your emotions. But I'm here with you, at this moment, in this exquisite place, forever your anchor. Let's cherish the now and build memories that'll guide our future rather than being tethered to what was. Reliving old memories takes you away from experiencing new ones. Please, let go and take me with you on this journey. I want to bond with you and not let your grief, this uninvited guest, ruin our chance to bond. I would much rather watch the sun descend beyond the horizon, with you and only you by my side. Can you try to do that for me?" Reed implored.

Her eyes, a mirror of her agitated soul, shimmered with fresh tears. Reminiscent of dew sliding off morning orchid petals — each droplet a testament to the beauty, strength, and love that resides within her. 'He's everywhere, Reed. In every shadow, every whisper. It feels like he's trying to communicate. Trying to bridge a gap from my world to his.

Reed, taking a deep breath, intertwined his fingers with hers. "The specter of grief, Mia, has a potent magic. It conjures visions, stirs emotions. But, remember our foundation - I'm with you. This moment, this reality, is ours. Your world is my world, and we are in this together. I admire how you are finding ways to connect with Elliot in this enchanting city. I see how much he means to you, but magic isn't real. I hope that someday you'll find the healing you deserve and return to me and our shared reality. I'm willing to be patient and stick with you through it all.

One evening, as hues of orange and lavender danced in the sky, Amelia couldn't resist the allure of the beach. She had always been drawn to it, but this time, the pull felt different, more magnetic. The sea, with its rhythmic waves, seemed to whisper secrets. It felt as though they were meant just for her. As she approached the water's edge, a peculiar sensation washed over her as if unseen eyes were fixed upon her. The same sensation that had been haunting her throughout the trip, but this time, it was undeniable. She turned, and there before her stood a face both familiar and ethereal: unmistakably, Elliot.

"Ellie..." she murmured. The sea was calm as can be, yet waves of emotion rushed over her.

His apparition bore that serene, all-too-familiar crooked smirk. "Mia," he began, "I've come to offer the closure you yearn for. Embrace the present, find happiness, and remember." He pressed his hand against her chest. "I am not a guest; this hole you feel can be my home. I'll always reside there, in a corner of your heart — if you let go and invite me in."

Taking a deep, steadying breath and cherishing the preciousness of the moment, she whispered, "I needed this — to hear your voice, see your face, and feel your touch one last time. My heart is your home; you'll always have a place there. I'll always love you."

As Elliot's visage gradually dissipated, his parting words lingered, "Cherish what’s in front of you. Remember our moments, but don’t be chained to them. The only anchor you need has been right in front of you all along. Look for the sea that is a mirror to the unfolding sky, where the moon kisses the sun, and the cracked horizon is painted in a golden hue.”

Elliot was always so poetic with his words, she honestly didn't really know what he meant. But she knew it was beautiful and that there was only one thing left for her to do. When she returned to their villa, Reed was waiting, a beacon of concern. Words were unnecessary; not that she could have spoken them anyway, but she wrapped him in an embrace that communicated volumes and strengthened their bond more than any candle-lit dinner by the seaside could. Tears of newfound clarity cascaded down like a waterfall.

Together, with the past receding like the tide, they locked eyes and then released their gaze towards the dawning promise of tomorrow.

—

From the depths of my soul to the hearts of my readers, " The Fall of Her Summer" was written and published by Jasmine Green, also known as Sonesta Wilde.

Acknowledgment: Reedsy

I would like to express my heartfelt gratitude to Reedsy, the platform that sparked the inspiration for this writing challenge. Their prompt, "What was meant to be a great bonding vacation turns sour when an uninvited guest tags along," served as the catalyst for the creation of "The Fall of Her Summer." This story not only touched my soul but also provided a gateway to my healing journey. It has become a tribute to my personal experiences and an introduction to a larger narrative that I plan to explore in the form of a novel.

I am deeply appreciative of Reedsy for providing writers like me with the opportunity to allow our hearts to find their voices. This platform has been instrumental in fostering creativity, self-expression, and the power of storytelling. Through their prompts and support, Reedsy has empowered writers to explore the depths of their emotions and share their stories with the world. This acknowledgment is a testament to the transformative impact of writing and the invaluable role that platforms like Reedsy play in nurturing literary talent.

Summary:

"The Fall of Her Summer" is a poignant tale of love, loss, and the enduring power of hope. Set against the backdrop of a picturesque vacation destination, the story follows Amelia, who is grappling with the profound grief of losing her former lover, Elliot. Struggling to find closure, she embarks on a journey with her steadfast partner, Reed, who has been a pillar of support through her grief. As they explore the beautiful landscape together, Amelia grapples with the unexpected resurgence of memories and emotions tied to Elliot.

The story delicately explores the complexities of grief, the lingering presence of lost loved ones, and the healing potential of new beginnings. Amelia's journey towards acceptance and the emotional connection between her and Reed form the heart of the narrative. Ultimately, "The Fall of Her Summer" offers a message of resilience, the importance of cherishing the present, and the possibility of finding love and hope amidst the shadows of the past.

Note about Inspiration:

"The Fall of Her Summer" was inspired by the profound experience of grief following the passing of a former lover, Eli, right at the beginning of the summer season of this year. To say that this summer has been challenging would be an understatement; it felt more like a fall, if not winter—hard, cold, and painful. Writing this story has provided some respite from this pain, allowing the author to express their emotions and find solace in the creative process. As the author continues to navigate their grief, they look forward to delving even deeper into this story, transforming it into a powerful narrative that captures the essence of love, loss, and healing. The story also draws from the unwavering support and love provided by the author's current partner, making it a testament to the profound impact of relationships in times of adversity.