Autumn through the years

I remember. The first autumn. When you were in my belly, when I used to talk to you about the season, about my wishes for the ones to come.

I was happy in a way. Leaves were turning brown and I was drafting our future, the walks we would do hand in hand, the sound of the rain, the rustle around, the song of the wind, the warmth of a sunday afternoon by the sea.

Knowing you were there gave me the strenght to live through the dark hours ahead. I was not alone anymore and I could tell you about all the beauty, all the wonderful of life. I never doubted it. I never allowed anybody to come between you and me.

Autumn was tender when winter was harsh. I lose my mind many times. And yet I kept talking to you, like a madwoman most of the time. But I cared you know. I cared so much. I wanted the best for you and I took the chance, even if it came with chaos and violence, even if at a time I thought of giving you away. So somebody else could take care of you.

Year after year, autumn comes as a reminder of love shared, of love like the most powerful tool to overcome the worst. I knew I would not have left if it’s not for you. You were the green light on the road, that we took together, hand in hand. Always.