September 9th
This will be my last letter to you.
Things have gotten really serious with the flower shop guy, and I'm OK now. I'm OK because I realized that I will always have a place for you in my heart, but it's alright for me to let other people have places too. I used to be so afraid of forgetting you or replacing you, but now I know that I couldn't do either, not even if I tried.
Every love is different. I'll always remember our love on the hill of wild sunflowers, but now I'm making new memories in a field of quiet lilacs. You showed me how to be alive and to capture every last golden drop of the sun, and now he is teaching me to be still and to appreciate that split second of silence while driving beneath a bridge as it rains.
I will always see your eyes in the colors of every season to remind me to be present. I just hope that you will see my reflection in the beads of water on your skin to remind you to feel because I know that I taught you to live just as much as you taught me.
I wrote something for you awhile ago and I think it's important for me to include it here to send away that last cobweb of you from my heart: "Even after the seasons of my existence succumb to a perennial winter lodged in my chest like a glacier in the Arctic or the amber of spring, I hope I will have livened your youth's summers enough to be the Autumn leaf saved between the epochs in which you felt most alive."
I promise that I will find the most beautiful leaf I can this Autumn and I will save it on my entry for June 2nd, the memory in which I felt most alive.
Farewell.
