If Only I Had Told Her

by Laura Nowlin

My devotion to Autumn is engraved on my very being. I am in awe of her. I will sit in the stands and cheer her on in life as her most ardent admirer. I know I will always love her in the same way I know I’ll always need oxygen.

Even when I could have escaped her or avoided thoughts of her, I chose not to. For example, I’ve used Autumn in my mnemonic devices for countless vocab words in school. She is comely, hallowed, and impervious. My love for her is vehement, protracted, and interminable.

“Whatever our souls are made of, hers and mine are the same.”

It seems so obvious now; it matters which people you spend time with, and it matters how you spend your time, because you don’t know how much you have.

We are all dead bodies that haven’t died yet.