Written by Key
November is a bittersweet month for me. No longer is it summer, it’s fall. It’s not even early fall where there are some leaves left and the weather is mild, nope...the leaves are almost gone and it’s brisk. The wind hits my face quick and hard. It gets dark faster. It’s not my month.
Everyone is happy with holiday cheer and I fall quickly into a slump, I think.
It’s been this way for three years. Three years ago I began my November with illness and frequent hospital visits and ended it with heartbreak. In the middle somewhere was what I had planned to be one of the best days for me, a day of celebration. That perfect cool mild November day soon turned into a night that I’ll never forget...don’t matter how many times I try not to “think about that time.” He was the highlight of my day. It was the day that we could finally be together, but quickly…that white picket dream was crushed before it even had the chance to be birthed into a reality.
November is the month of my parents anniversary. Something I never had. No one ever to bring home for thanksgiving, or even mention. November last year was my last month of hope. November brings on anxiety, one that looms over my heart and makes it tremble, flutter, palpate...in the same way that my heart did as I lay in my bed gasping for air three years ago….in the same way my heart did as I cried “how.”
November is the month that I lost my friendship of six years due to a situation that also caused me to lose the guy that I thought would be next to me this year at the thanksgiving table...Christmas...and next January... February …. and May…. and August.
November isn’t just a loss for the trees, it’s a loss for me..
This year I didn’t weep. I cried but I didn’t weep. I know that leaves fall for a reason and times of turmoil are just for a season. This year, I was renewed and finally let go of the leaves I was holding onto so deeply. The resentment, the pain, the comparisions.
November is a bittersweet month for me. It’s never been the kindest yet it always comes bringing unexpected beautiful gifts of growth.
As I’ve grown older, I’ve forgotten how to play in the leaves that fall. I think it’s time to learn.