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Apoi au aparut si alte frunze, din ce in ce mai multe, mai galbene, mai uscate, care ma napadeau din toate partile, imi intrau in suflet, in ochi, in viata. Dar mergeam tantosa, cu capul sus, ignorandu-le.
Apoi am inceput o lupta nebuna cu ele, dadeam din maini, picioare, urlam, sa le fac sa dispara. Dar ele se tot strangeau, sufocandu-ma.
Intr-o zi m-au ingropat... Afara era un soare cald, de septembrie, insa eu il vedeam sangeriu. Ganduri dintre cele mai stranii imi inundau mintea. Citeam carti pe care nu mi le mai amintesc, urmaream seriale ore intregi, ma plimbam prin parc si ma surprindeam stergandu-mi lacrimi de pe obraz, cu toate ca nu ma gandeam la nimic. Si ma cufundam in depresie in fiecare zi mai mult, mai greu, mai periculos.
Apoi, am inceput sa accept treptat ca voi purta mereu in suflet o urma de septembrie, ca galbenul, ca ma prinde sau nu, va deveni o culoare obligatorie a garderobei sufletului meu, ca unele lucruri sunt facute sa nu se intample, ca...
Dupa 9 luni am invatat subit sensul expresiei "cui pe cui se scoate". Fara prea multa pasiune pentru ironie, a trebuit sa o accept, sa o imbratisez, sa o iubesc, sa o povestesc. Alte 9 luni dupa asta mi-am rontait temerile, strofocandu-ma continuu sa nu le las pe ele sa ma rontaie pe mine. M-am transformat, reinventat, m-am pregatit pentru "ce-o fi, o fi", pentru mine, cea de acum, si pentru el.
Nu numai in septembrie imi amintesc de acel septembrie. Septembrie merge cu mine pretutindeni, e parte din cine sunt, il regasesc in oglinda, in scrierile mele, in felul in care relationez cu oamenii, in ochii lui, cei fara griji si plini de inocenta.
Hai, frunza galbena...
***
The last September I remember lasted about 9 months.
Everything went "by the book": first a yellow leaf fell, just like that, out of the blue, like in that song, it hit me in my pink life, it disturbed the water mirror a bit.
Then other leaves appeared, more and more, yellower and yellower, drier and drier, and they covered me from all sides, they entered my soul, my eyes, my life. But I walked around, head held high, ignoring them.
Then I started a mad fight with them, waving my hands, kicking, screaming, to make them disappear. But they kept squeezing, choking me.
One day they buried me... Outside it was a warm September sun, but I could see it was bleeding. The strangest thoughts flooded my mind. I was reading books I can't remember, watching TV series for hours, walking in the park and catching myself wiping tears from my cheeks, even though I wasn't thinking about anything. And I was sinking deeper, harder, more dangerously into depression every day.
Then I gradually began to accept that I will always carry a trace of September in my soul, that yellow, whether it catches me or not, will become a mandatory color of my soul's wardrobe, that some things are made not to happen, that...
After 9 months I suddenly learned the meaning of the phrase "nail on the head". Without much passion for irony, I had to accept it, embrace it, love it, tell it. Another 9 months after that I nagged my fears, continually stroking myself not to let them nag me. I transformed myself, reinvented myself, prepared myself for "what will be, will be", for me, the now, and for him.
It's not just September I remember that September. September goes with me everywhere, it's part of who I am, I find it in the mirror, in my writing, in the way I relate to people, in its eyes, the carefree and innocent ones.
Come on, yellow leaf...
