Moonlit Passage

By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire. Bright yellows and oranges, as crisp as the late October air. Yet the conditions were not cool enough to prevent the mental combustion that was looming inside my head. The sun had just set, so the sky was a light gray transitioning to a smoky color. It was a few minutes past seven and suddenly I remembered the shop closed at eight. We’d have to be quick. Having been trapped at home the last seven months, it’s hard to believe how much had changed in my life and the lives around me. Most of it seemingly beyond my doing as I’d done nothing more than was necessary. Two entire seasons passed with me limiting myself to working from home, picking up necessities and having online therapy sessions that proved to be futile.  The mother I once found comfort in was going through changes of her own. The trees no longer spoke, and the ground now seemed to be hardened. Trudging along engrossed in the thoughts of how I loved to be barefoot with my feet in the grass and my toes dancing in the cushy soil.

A malignant adversary went about interrupting the way people all over the world connected. Even those of us who at one time or another, were considered to be rooted, were now grasping to hold on. During the hours between 9am and 5pm, the default was auto-pilot for me. What followed those insufferable periods and tucked me into bed were tears, anxiety, depression and an extreme sense of loneliness. Over five hundred people were laid off from the company I worked for. I should have counted myself as lucky for not being of the many. But I didn’t Having been there less than a year myself, I was not only still learning how to manage all my responsibilities but taking over other roles to account for the diminished staff. It was almost impossible to get support. Waiting hours for simple responses and often not even receiving a reply at all. My best friend who I always jokingly said was the only person to keep me sane was now in South Korea. The time zones lead to us speaking less and less, until we were no longer speaking, instead we resigned to texting on occasion. In addition to being overworked, stressed and lonely, I was nursing the earth-shaking fact that my parents were planning to divorce. It was my youngest sister that told me. I kept asking myself a question I was terrified to ask either of them. How do you spend thirty years with someone and decide that is enough? And at a time like this, when people all over were losing their loved ones and futures were so uncertain. The thought of it gave way to a golf ball in my throat. They always seemed to be so in love. They were the best example of partnership and commitment I’d ever known. Even still when we’d Facetime, they’d be so in sync, completing each other’s sentences and laughing at one another’s not so funny jokes. Not once did they mention it to me and my sister made me swear not to tell so I went along with the act, feeling hopeless and confused every time we’d hang up.

Walking the six and a half blocks to the coffee shop I could feel my heart racing. The last time he and I met, particularly at this very same shop I cried and left with swollen eyes. At the time I thought we were meeting to resolve our issues, at least that’s what I wanted. It turned out we were actually saying “goodbye”. Although, those exact words were never spoken, today would make the first time I would see him since then. Last Tuesday made a year that we hadn’t seen each other and the reason I know is because I marked the day in my calendar. I think the reason I noted the date is because I always knew that somehow, I’d see him again. All this time I’d been counting the months which initially started with me counting the days. Two blocks away from this fateful reunion and my organs were vocal. Clammy skin, the drum of my heart seemingly inside my ear and for goodness sake my mouth was as dry as a desert. He’ll ask for another chance I thought. What will I say? Maybe I should let him speak first since it was, he that invited me. I obviously still love him. Every prospect I’ve dated since then, unbeknown to them, were compared to him. No one else ever made the cut and somehow neither did he. Yet I was left with the feeling that of all the loves I’ve known he had come the closest.

Do I even want him back? Would things be different. Is it worth the risk? I think long about the emotional hardship I went through last year. The isolation, rage, hurt, and even guilt that I suffered. Maybe enough time has passed. Maybe too much time passed. Would he be the same person? I breathed deeply to regain my composure and release the thought of all the questions I had no certain answer to. For a while I focused on the crunch of the leaves beneath my boots surprisingly a satisfying distraction. Approaching the edge of the shop, I noticed him immediately through the large windows. He was the kind of man that stood out in a crowd. He was beside the wall but facing the door which was centered. He’d see me as soon as I walk in. I stood at the edge staring as he fidgeted with his phone, a drink that was likely Vanilla Chai tea beside him. Taking two steps back, so that he was no longer in view, I leaned against the glass of the closed juice bar and pulled out my phone. “I’m sorry. I can’t make it.” And just like that, I walked away feeling lighter and again listening to the crunch of the leaves, red, orange, yellow and green. This time it wasn’t a distraction, it was a song because I was celebrating the beginning of a new season for me.