Autumn was bittersweet—it could be best summed up in the words of George Bernard Shaw: “There are two tragedies in life. One is to lose your heart's desire. The other is to gain it.”
Of course, Shaw was seeing life through a sanguine perspective when he wrote those lines, but I was seeing it through the mask of tragedy and the mournful colors of another somber season without Regan.
Regan was my heart’s desire and when she perished in an accident, my dreams shattered along with hers.
I doubted I’d ever be really happy again or meet anyone as special, but that all changed when I found Marin.
Marin Woods was special. Our relationship began one day in my graduate seminar when I was fascinated by the sheen of her hair.
The sun was slanting in the window turning the blonde and red filaments into a dazzling copper brighter than any newly minted penny.
I was lost in the daydream of her until Professor Hedges kindly reminded me how beautiful women are always distractions but one must still attend to the business at hand—in this case, ironically Pirandello, and our discussion of illusion and reality.
I was too afraid to look at Marin and had to endure the smirking faces of my classmates, but after class she and I happened to be walking down the same path and I stole a glance at her and saw a shadow of a smile steal across her features.
She stopped and turned to me, “I’m sorry Dr. Hedges embarrassed you, Jess—he always makes facetious remarks, none of which are true.”
Her spin on things let me off the hook, but I couldn’t lie. “Actually, I was staring at you—I was fascinated by the colour of your hair and the way the sunbeams light it on fire.”
She looked intrigued, “That’s very poetic, and a good line if you’re a player.”
“Who me—a player?” I snorted, “Not bloody likely. I must have turned twenty shades of purple in that room.”
“I’d say your color was more rosy, but I thought it was adorable.”
I felt embarrassed all over again.
“Oh great—‘adorable’—what every man wants to hear.”
“Well, it should be,” she countered, “besides, I was smiling at you—why didn’t you smile back?”
“I guess I was too embarrassed to notice. I wanted to sink into the floor.”
“Hey, it wasn’t that bad by Dr. Hedges’ standards—he went easy on you. But you owe me.”
“I do?” I croaked.
“I’d say a Caramel Macchiato might redeem you. I’m heading to the bank and there’s a Starbucks right beside it.”
“Actually, I was heading there too—to the bank, I mean—but coffee sounds great.”
She stopped and tilted her head toward me, her long hair shimmering in the sun, “Are you sure you’re not a player?”
“Me? No—honestly, I think you’re beautiful.” The words just came out.
She smiled and looped her arm around mine, “In that case, I’d also like a pumpkin scone.”
And that’s how we began—and how I ended up inviting her to our family Thanksgiving dinner.
When you’re first in love everything seems brighter. Marin made the russet shades of autumn grow even more brilliant.
I had been in sorrow for a year grieving Regan but now my spirits lifted. The sky was bluer—the air fresher, and the woods, like my heart, were on fire.
The drive up to my family’s country home was breathtaking especially considering the estate was situated on the Niagara escarpment. A tidal wave of colour had submerged everything and it seemed the old tired world I knew had perished and both it and I had been reborn.
The cool breeze shuddering against the car helped drown out the pounding of my heart. I barely knew Mar, but already was thoroughly enchanted.
She seemed happy too—occasionally she’d reach across and put her hand over mine, and her smile melted everything that grief and loss had frozen inside me.
The suffocating heaviness was gone and I could breathe freely again, and smile spontaneously—and yes, even wipe away a stray tear of joy from my eyes.
It was October and I was in love. It was perfect.
