The cold weather blew in and I am still surprised by it when I put my feet to the floor, run across the room, step out the front door and jump back in again, for a quick second of cowardice.  It hugged my bones, tightened that spot in my back that will not stop speaking to me, had me running for thick socks, boots, scarves, long beautiful coats. 

The changes of the year slid into my heart the second my bones felt the cold absence of the sun; life suddenly roared and all that I have to celebrate and all that I have to mourn joined hands and danced a circle around and around.  I've heard you can be dizzy with weather, but I am not sure, not entirely sure that the weather is all there is.  Not certain that when I slip my toes out of bed in the morning it is the air that makes me want to start the night over and over and stay forever, tucked in my nest of quilts and pillows and extra books.

If I had known a while ago what I would be, what my life would become now, I would have laughed maybe.  And smiled and probably cried or at least shook my head and sat for a minute.  I would have been many things at once and I would have prayed to be true, prayed to be love, demanded some strength. 

I was up late with a boy who fascinates me, who is far, far away because last night I could not handle the absence that changes here leave.  I begged more hours, stalled like mad, lying on the floor, telephone cradled in my neck while he listened to me go on and on about silly things, about my toe color and stretching and the Spanish class I'm craving.

Earlier this week I had one of those conversations that makes humanity feel very full.  Under the stars, in old suits, walking through our hearts, laughing about our fits, really talking about Him and my Spirit flew it just soared.  We have known the other's soul for so long and so there is no explaining, no misunderstood words falling flat. 

I crawled into bed late on Thursday and I tried to pray, I told Him I needed a night to bury myself in and that my heart was not very good, my heart was not good at all.  So I prayed a prayer made of tears and I spent them completely, the laughing and sad and angry ones, all spent and He did not ask more of me.  But when morning came, He woke me early and I had the best time sitting with Him in that lazy, comfortable way of the forgiven.

Now I am sitting here, in my mother's robe and while I am writing I am talking to Him, telling Him about those wounds, these holes I felt.  And then excited, rushing on and on, splitting my face with it all.  Mournful, but so so completely alive with hope.  I am going to get dressed after this, I am going to pull on the shoes I love most and leave my hair down and long, tangled in my scarf and I am going to stun the life out of fall.

I am.