A few days ago, a week about, the rain fell on the first day of fall and now some days into autumn, the sun shines through the brisk coolness, the leaves are beginning to change their color, and warm coats, wool caps, and mittens are donned.  College kids have replaced the hoards of camera flashing tourists; and the town begins to crawl steadily into the hush of the still lifelessness of winter, to turn into one-selves, lose ourselves in introspection during the cold winter months to follow.  We close down shop (metaphorically), we disappear inside of ourselves, some grow depressed without the glare and daily blast of Vitamin D, and I, too, seem to alter my perspective in the cycles of the seasons and that of the planet, but, save for the monthly hormonal visits, I become more alive as the colors of nature appear, more vivid against the grayness of the sky.  In the cold, my creativity sparks and my zeal for life awakens--even more, and I once again find myself falling in love with the fall, find myself in love with the Ashland fall, not only with the new gentleman in my life, but with autumn itself, and, yes, even with the memories of past falls that once were--

Yet even still my heart sinks with longing for what once was, a certain little coffee shop whose laughter still rings out in my heart, the warm smell of the coffee bean roasting was not the only invitation, but the love, warmth, and acceptance of loved ones--

And what hurts is that this past is truly now past, what hurts now is those pleasant memories are singed with those of the screaming, the throwing, the rages, the paranoia, and the horrors--

At present, I am aware that my first love walks the street of the town I am living in, and despite some fears for my safety, my heart goes out to him with the desire that he have a warm bed to sleep in, food to fill his belly, and the earnest and hopeful prayer that he will seek out the appropriate healing he so desperately needs and be free from the ravaging lies that are so devastating and destructive--

For he is my Heathcliff and I his Catherine Linton, and as she declared in Wuthering Heights, I say of my Scary-Dark-Boy:

"If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be, and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger, I would not seem a part of it"--and for my part I share the words one character speaks to another in my play written about my relationship with my first love, pointing to his heart:

"Right here.  You are still right here in my heart.  Even after everything that happened, you are still right here.  You once told me that I needed to find a love more that fire, bells, and whistles.  I needed to know that I am loved.  With you, I have that.  Even when you are far away, when you are not here physically, I still know that I am loved.  When I look into your eyes, I see the reflection of my own soul."

And so it is, as the Gershwins penned, "the way you wear your hat, the way you sip your tea, the memory of all that, no, they can't take that away from me."

And so they shan't.

Though, we will never ever "meet again on the bumpy road to love" but you, my Scary-Dark-Boy, will always remain.  In My Heart.  Forever.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ehMx12dSF6w