In the last autumn we lay in bed hands touching unable to get any closer. Our thoughts so far away, we were like two castaways stranded from each other.
In the last autumn my sister came to visit. We took long runs and I told her of our estrangement as she listened sympathetically.
In the last autumn, as the sun rose and fell overhead, I wondered who was her sympathetic ear; we all have one.
In the last autumn I rose in the icy mornings running along frozen gravel, watching as the sun split the darkness dividing sky from earth, feeling as if I was also dividing and splitting in two.
In the last autumn I walked on eggshells across the kitchen floor bracing against the unpredictably of her anger flashing to the surface, unable to say anything, powerless to the unstoppable separation growing between us.
In the last autumn I felt as if I was running on solid ground only to have the earth crack open before me unable to turn away nor force my legs to stop as I slipped headlong under the surface of sanity.
In the last autumn I felt her embrace and heard those words for the last time as she pulled me outside, kissed me, and told me she loved me.
In the last autumn, I never imagined it was the last autumn of her and I.
I watch now in my mind’s eye as she swings her legs off the kitchen stool, walks casually through the door, and closes it behind her.
In the last autumn.