How should I begin? As I find my way back to your pages once more, I’m still clueless as how to approach you after such a long absence. Are you mad? Sad? Maybe a little of both? I apologize dear confidant. My days grow evermore hectic, evermore busy; I rarely have time to even lay my head for sleep. Though I suppose, I should find time for an old friend who listens so diligently to the ramblings of one as foolish as I. Tell me, my dear friend, have you…have you missed me? Missed my writing? My foolishness? In my mind, I think you have, but whether that be the case or not I know one thing for certain; I have missed you. Shall we continue where we left off? Like two dancers, continuing their swaying after the music had ended. Or would you rather we begin anew? Introductions perhaps? I joke. I joke.
Did you know? The seasons have changed. We bid farewell to the humid winds of summer, to those long nights beneath the stars catching fireflies, to those long lazy afternoons sitting on a bench with a good book. Indeed, that novel of summertime has come to an end, and as we place it back upon the shelf we pick out the next sequence, the next volume of this four part series, the one of autumn.
Autumn always felt like the odd one of the bunch. It’s never warm enough to be considered summer, nor is it cool enough to be considered winter. The same can be said of spring, but spring holds a special place in each of our hearts; we embrace it with open arms. With autumn, however, we shun it; we shun it for many reasons, but we shun it nonetheless. Is it because it beckons those cold harsh winds of winter? Or is it because many call it the season of death? I wonder, why do they call it so? To me, autumn is the most sacred, the only time where all of nature exhibits its beauty for all to see, a last hurrah of vivid colors and wonderful smells…oh how wonderful they are. Even without those fantastic smells, the beauty is enough to captivate you, to grab you by your emotions only letting go when that final leaf has made it’s way off that lonely branch, and the first snow has begun to fall. If only I could spend this season in the Shroud, among those trees. Oh what I would give.
Ah, I seem to have rambled on as I did back then. A thousand apologies my dear friend, but I do love this season. From the old purple sweater I take out of hibernation, to the smell of my pumpkin flavored tea, I love it all. I wonder…does he enjoy this season as I do? I wonder, as I often do, will we ever meet? It doesn’t have to be long, nor fateful, a simple encounter. I would be sitting on a couch in an inn reading my book, and he would sit across from me with a book of his own. After a while, he would glance up and smile, and ask me what I’m reading. It sounds quite silly doesn’t it? I suppose I’ve been reading too many love stories as of late.
I wonder what he’ll sound like.
I suppose that’s enough rambling out of me today. I promise you, my treasured friend; I shall check in more often. I won’t be away from your pages for too long, as I must admit, parting from you is like parting from a dear friend, one who knows every little quirk and every little secret.
Forever yours,
Cydni Eloise Aizah
Cydni's Journal 