Winner in the teen Writing Rammy 2019
When I first saw her it was October. I thought there was something wrong with me. I thought I felt sick, I thought her smile was too soft and that her eyes were too bright. I thought I hated her. I didn’t.
The second time I saw her was when I was out with a group. I didn’t know who invited her. Maybe it was me. She laughed and touched my hands. She was soft. I liked it.
The twenty sixty time I saw her she had promised to take me to sit under her favorite tree. I couldn’t help but smile. Of course she had a favorite tree, only she could.
We walked through the woodland and she placed her hand in mine ‘so we don’t get separated’, she had whispered. I didn’t mind, I liked the feeling of our hands intertwined.
We sat under that tree, the autumn leaves falling around us, until the world was bathed in the golden glaze of a sunset. She leaned her head on my shoulder. How could I ever hate her?
We walked out of the park and back to her house before I went back to mine. We stood on her doorstep, silent for what felt like an eternity. She kissed me on the cheek, her face flushed. And then she ran inside.
And so I walked away from home and returned to my house.
The eight-hundredth time I saw her we were sitting on the roof of the school. We weren’t meant to be there. We didn’t care. She had grown out her hair and liked it when I brushed through it with my hand. She gave me a smile that reminded me of gentle autumn months sitting under our favorite tree.
The thousandth time I saw her we were at a party. A Halloween one. It was crowded, loud, and messy. This wasn’t our October. She placed a hand on my arm and whispered that if I wanted to leave she would come too. We took her mother’s car and drove to our tree. We sat under its branches. We lay on our backs looking up at the stars. I could only focus on the feeling of her hand and the soft sound of her breathing. I turned to face her and so did she. She gave me one of her soft smiles.
We kissed, soft and warm. We were each other’s home surrounded by orange leaves.
Today when I meet her, we’ll have long finished school and finally be home with one another. I’ll drive her to our tree late at night. And at midnight, the first of the tenth, I’ll drop to one knee and ask her if she’ll stay with me.
And then it’ll finally just be me, her, the moon, and the month of October.
(c) Charlotte Donaldson