It's been a long week. It's been a long month. It's been a long life.
Today is the one month anniversary of when Nancy told me she was leaving. One Month. I made it this far. Somehow. I have to give a lot of credit to my friends, who have been there for me every step of the way, especially those who have been fielding my calls, texts, and emails at all hours, and taking my neuroses in stride. You know who you are, and I can never repay you (I'll still try, though).
I paid the rent yesterday. By myself. I didn't think I could do it, but I did. I did what I had to do to survive, and, at least for the time being, it worked. I have to say I'm proud of myself. It's been the little things in which I find comfort, joy, and beauty, like I did yesterday while out canvassing.
Stepping onto a porch, I caught the sweet perfume of flowers hanging in a basket on the porch, the last vestiges of a spring long forgotten. The scent transported me to somewhere I'd never been, to the memory of a life I'd never lived; not a memory of a place or time, but of feeling and emotion, and one that briefly overtook me. Leaving the porch, I pulled in one, last, deep lungfull of the enchanting attar, and was on my way. It set my head right, and I had a great night of canvassing.
Earlier in the day, during our round of introductions, we were asked about our favorite part of fall.
Autumn is time of ending, bringing with it the promise of the coming death of winter. But there's more than that. The trees shed their verdant leaves in a glorious explosion of color, and those very same leaves become part of the soil, covered by the snows of winter, so that they may bring life again in the promise of spring. In the reality of death, there is the promise of life.
That is eternity.
When you fall, you will arise again. That's what I love about fall.
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