​Don’t Come Too Late

Today the wind is restless and the sky has turned white, and I find myself gazing at the trees, trees slowly surrendering to winter, their branches growing bare one leaf at a time.

The wind must be heavy today; it shakes each branch with unrestrained force. I watch some leaves fall softly, effortlessly, as if they were born knowing how to let go.

But others cling with all their strength, fighting for one more moment of belonging, as though the life they’ve had on their branch is too precious to release. They don’t know they must fall must bruise, must ache, before they can ever grow green again.

They must taste winter’s cold to earn another spring.

Perhaps they’re afraid of being crushed beneath the feet of someone with an unkind heart. They don’t know that maybe, just maybe, a gentle hand could lift them instead.

Watching them reminds me of myself. Reminds me of the day you said you loved me, but our paths had to part. I froze, as if a blade of cold wind had cut through me.

I felt like a yellow leaf terrified of falling from its branch. I wanted you to pull me close, those strong arms I adored, wrap me in your warmth and shield me from every storm.

I wanted to stay. I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to fall, or be scattered, or be stepped on by the world.

But you told me to let go. As if you wanted to teach me a strength I had learned long before the kind life teaches us through every harsh autumn and every long winter. The strength to release, to surrender, so we can breathe freely again.

Like the autumn leaves that have already tasted the freedom of falling.

But I didn’t want to be a leaf shaken loose by every cold wind. I wanted to weather every storm with you. Not once did I imagine leaving you behind.

I never wanted a life without your voice, your laughter, your tears, your eyes.

I didn’t want a world where I could no longer touch you. Where someone else might take my place in the spaces I once filled.

But your bitter words weren’t a wind they were a storm. A violent, spinning force that tore me from your arms and carried me somewhere you never bothered to search.

I became lost. I waited for you. But you didn’t come.

And now, maybe, I wait for a gentle hand someone who can soothe the bruises on my spirit.

Maybe someday that hand will be yours again. Maybe someday you’ll want to find me, to grow new leaves together, to begin another spring.

Just don’t come too late.

Ashley the name you gave me