It lacked any semblance of harshness or bitterness, her leaving. For that I’m grateful. Because should it be that we never see one another again, remorse won’t find its way into my heart—for my world was made better by her having graced it, Father.

Still, Khrista’s gone.

I don’t know with any surety whether I lost a lover. Likewise, I haven’t a clue if I’ve lost a dear friend.

What I am certain of, Father, is we, both she and I, lost autumn. I’ve lost Khrista at the introduction of the falling of autumn leaves.

Nevermind the shared dinner on a plush throw by a refuse-to-die autumn fire—that wasn’t. And won’t be.

A man can’t miss what he hasn’t experienced.

Nevermind that I won’t revel in the chance to coil the handstitched scarf around her neck just a bit more snugly to safeguard her from the elements. Or that I won’t have the opportunity to present to her shoulders the distinctive shawl I saw in the change-of-season window on my walk to the bakery.

Perhaps neither of those small but emotional events would have meant much to her, for it was my instinct that concluded the woman has both accepted and turned away a number of overtures from mesmerized men along her romance journey.

My putting my hand out to her may well have been simply another among the rigmarole of courting prospects.

But I know, I just feel, Father, to the marrow of my bones that she felt something for me unlike the others.

It’s still there methinks. It won’t dissipate methinks. I just wonder what it truly is she thinks.

That walk, hand in hand, down the antiquated, widely paved, postcard-worthy tree-lined street on the outskirts of town . . . is what I most looked forward to.

And then to escort her to the Apple store for a new iPhone 7 plus—my treat. Not because she couldn’t purchase her own. She probably could buy several. But to then present the certificate of Apple shares that are far more meaningful than the device.

Buffet finally bought in. And he told me to as well—both for myself and the girl I care about most.

But Khrista’s gone, Father.

I lost her. We lost autumn.

Keep her, Father. My world was made better. I still look forward to the new season. I look forward to the fallen leaves.

I believe in autumn.

With grace,
Rg2

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Pamper the woman . . . and forever live in her soul. -Rg2

© 2016 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®