excerpt from an unfinished novel

My love,

Yesterday, it was so beautiful out. I remembered how much you used to love the fall, the leaves changing. You told me how, as soon as the first leaf changed color, we would take a walk together and listen to our feet shuffling in the crumbling leaves, blanketing the street. It might be chilly, you said, so you would hold me tight as we walked, until I was warm. That could take a while, you said, because it’s supposed to a very cold. I thought about that all today, wishing it could be.

I decided to take a walk that afternoon, as soon as I came home. It was the time of day when the sun is still shinning brightly, but its light is slowly fading away into a thin layer of golden dust, that sprinkles the tops of the trees and lines the clouds. You know what I mean, don’t you? It was stunning. The wind blew lightly, a cool breath. Every time the wind sighed like that, the trees began to rain, and dropped their multicolored raindrops on the ground.

Mr. Dailey was outside raking when I came out the door. He saw me, and I watched as he gave my lawn a disapproving look. Maybe, if I wait long enough, he’ll come and rake those leaves for me, since it’s such a burden for him to see them. I see no point, though, in trying to fix something that isn’t broken. You can rake your yard anytime of the year, but it’s not too often that you can step outside on a bright, beautiful day and walk through a rainbow scattered over your lawn. Besides, you can rake and rake and rake, but those will just drift back to the exact place they started from, and you will have to do it all again. I wanted to tell Mr. Carson this, but I don’t think he would understand. I’ll probably rake the yard tomorrow.

I walked down to the lake. It was still and quiet, as it usually is, you remember. The only movement was an occasional ripple from a fish jumping or an acorn plopping into the water or the wind slightly rocking the surface, creating gentle waves, that lapped up the shore. I sat on the dock for a while, throwing rocks, watching their ripples spread throughout the entire lake. It was just me there, which is sometimes a sad thing; I like watching the children playing and the older couples, strolling around the perimeter of the lake, hearing their voices. It gives me something to concentrate on. Today, however, it was nice. No disruptions or noises or anything. I sat there, under an oak three, a few feet away from the water and watched.

I dreamed of you, but it seems so far away now, I can’t remember anything, except that I woke to the sound of a dog barking. I shifted my weight in my sleep and felt something crunch underneath my weight. My eyes snapped open. I had completely forgotten where I was. In a moment, the sound of water sloshing messily against the shore, the coolness of the grass against my skin, and the crunching of leaves and sticks underneath me made sense. It’s so easy to fall asleep there, completely absorbed in my own thoughts.

I wiggled my toes a few times, then slowly stretched out my legs, letting the life seep into my bones, and travel up my spine and into my arms which spread far out to the side, slowly uncurling my fingers, until sleep finally released itself from my lips through a yawn. I pressed my fingers against my neck; it was sore from being propped up against that tree for so long. I hadn't even realized that I was tired.

Time can do that, you know. It can leave you in its past, without you even knowing. Then, when you finally catch up to it, you realize just what it has done and that you have no recollection of all things thing you’ve let pass you by. What a sneaky thing it is, time. Then, there are other days when the loneliness weighs down heavily on your shoulders, and you wish that time would hurry up and skip ahead, so you could finally be out of that feeling, but time has its own mind, and of course it doesn’t listen. Such a sneaky thing. I’m sure you know just what I mean, especially now.

I realized the darkness had set in, now that I was awake, the sun completely hidden by the moon. There was nothing to focus on, nothing to distract me, and suddenly the darkness seemed thick and dense and endless, and I was scared of being alone there, by the lake.

I have been coming to the lake for so long; I could probably run through those woods with my eyes closed. I sprinted, just staring at the darkness as I ran into it, as if I could break through it, if I ran fast enough. The low, thin branches clawed at my face, but I pushed them away, and kept running. I could hear myself breathing loudly and inconsistently, and I tried to steady my breathing with the sounds of my footsteps, but I was running so quickly, so mindlessly, that my feet slapped the ground heavily at random, sporadic intervals, no pattern or consistency. I could feel my throat starting to burn, as if it was trying to stretch open, to let the oxygen enter my body. The muscles in my legs began to ache as well, and feeling it, I pushed harder, trying to outrun it, endure it for a little time as possible, knowing that I could do nothing but let it pass.

Oh, no. I have done it again. I’m writing too much, aren’t I? I’m sorry, love, but who is there to talk to now that you are away? You must be bored out of your mind reading all of these silly letters, endless tails of a girl’s boring, lonely days. Maybe you find some comfort in them, perhaps? Same old me, I guess, rambling on for days about small matters. I know you are laughing at me for this, aren’t you? But you can’t really blame me, can you? Nothing seems so insignificant anymore, now that I realize how much I have to lose; I want to write down everything that happens, so you’ll miss nothing when you come back.

Please hurry,

Me