A change of season

She was caught off guard. The waves of emotion rushed through her like an electric current. "This cannot be." she thought to herself. Perhaps she was feverish. Winter was, after all, clutching its ugly claws; ready to kick the autumn blues away.

The change was imminent. Nature had always been changing. It perplexed her why human nature seemed to be afraid of change even though it was needed for survival. "If we don't change we die", she recalls reading in one of her psychology books. Perhaps it was the reason why she felt dead inside; her refusal to embrace change.

Her feelings felt like a total overhaul. An evolvement. They were erratic. She had never felt this before. Not for any man, no. She wasn't sure she could contain them any longer. At first, they seemed fleeting. Soon to disappear into thin air but they never left. They seemed to be camping right inside her heart, threatening to be heard, to be felt. A burning furnace. They left her feeling awkward every time she came close to her.

Her. She looked like a drop of sunshine. Shining so bright she could bask in her glory. Her smile left her feeling warm inside. Enough to melt the cold inside her. The cold that had been there for years. She didn't imagine she could, once again, feel the way she did about someone else, let alone a woman.

The end of her marriage had been a shock to her system. She never could have foreseen the impact it had in her life. She thought she had it all mapped out. It had been a mutual agreement. She had spent years feeling suffocated, Trapped, like a fly in a bottle.

She had put her dreams on hold. No one asked her to. She did because she thought it was what was needed to be a good wife. She tried. She tried to live a lie. The truth was that she was dying inside and he could see it too. They both couldn't stand living in unhappiness.

Divorce was no child's play. It stripped her apart and left her naked in the open for all to see. At least that's how she felt. She ran for cover seeking shelter. On the sidelines, it seemed that people were staring at her, shaking their heads. Some laughing and some whispering. She was scared to stop. Scared that if she did, someone would ask her what had been done to her. She didn't want to answer because she knew. She knew she was part of the problem.

Finally, she found shelter. She was freezing. Luckily there was a fireplace. She was so cold that all she could do was to throw herself into the fire. She started burning. This is how she had felt. She realized that divorce could kill if one was not careful enough. It almost killed her many a time. She was left in a constant feeling of misplacement. Not knowing where she belonged in the world. At times she had thought that feeling misplaced was worse than death.

Things were changing. She was excited yet afraid. These conflicting feelings had always been a part of her. As necessary as it was, change was not easy. She came from a religious background. The scriptures said that women who sleep with women would not inherit Gods kingdom, that they belonged in a fiery hell. She had believed that for ages and embraced it as the truth. She had judged others so harshly. Her judgments had come back to haunt her.

It all changed.

She remembered the day as if it had happened yesterday. The memory was still vivid. It was the day she had the worst flu. The kind of flu that sucked the life out of a person. The kind that crushed the bones. Seasonal flu. She had forced herself to attend the book fair, only to satisfy the nagging feeling that was in her. It was the last day, a beautiful Sunday. Spring was approaching. She recalls feeling alive. Happy even.

As fate would have it when she saw her for the first time, something inside her shifted. A surge of mystical feelings had flowed through her. She was mesmerized by her. Her confidence was alluring. There was something enigmatic about her. She wished she could be let in on the mystery. Her feelings worsened every time she saw her. It made her sick, though not painful. It was painstakingly wonderful.

She wasn't sure if she was good enough for anyone. She could also be missing the mark. Her mind drifted a bit as she remembered that according to the bible, to sin was to miss the mark. Back at her senses, she thought of how her attraction could mean nothing to the other woman.

It might be wise to ask her out. Her friend had suggested. That had never crossed her mind before. It sounded logical. Perhaps not. Perhaps she wasn't supposed to be entertaining the feelings. Perhaps she was insane. Perhaps she was going to burn in hell for missing the mark. These thoughts ravaged her mind.

Her friend had said it wouldn't hurt to try. "You need to loosen up a bit, we don't live in the stone ages anymore. Think of all the multiple orgasms you would get," she had told her. They laughed at this. Her intense feelings for the other woman made her feel excited. She wanted to kiss her every time their eyes locked. Perhaps she had gone berserk.

She thought about waiting for a while. Waiting was her forte. It was easier to run. She had been escaping all her life. She needed no practice. It was a new season, however, and change was beckoning.

She could wait forever, or she could act. She had been pouring her feelings out in her writing. Her emotions translated into her words. "I didn't imagine you to be a queer writer," her niece had told her after reading one of her stories. Neither did she. She thought about the backlash from her family if she were to act.

She continued to dream about her. She recalled the words of a poet: "the how and why will reveal themselves in the making because ready is never a question, just a reminder to bring and jump."

Jump?

She still wonders if her feelings would be reciprocated. Perhaps it would really be best if she stayed away from her, but maybe it could be the beginning of a new season. A season full of sunshine.