Prompt #8: "Autumn shows us how beautiful it is to let things go." — Unknown


The Act of Letting Go

~oOo~

Autumn shows us how beautiful it is to let things go.

An anonymous quote once affectionately slurred in her direction by her mother. A teenaged wrist encircled and an outing eagerly demanded to bask in the setting sun of the equinox. Following a teetering guide; Olivia is apprehensive in public with Serena on a good day. She wonders what has gotten into her, to inspire this impromptu field trip. Something stronger than the alcohol she saw sweating in a glass.

A clearing in the park is discovered still soft and lush with late summer grass at their feet but transformative foliage overhead. Serena lays down with arms wide to beckon Olivia to do the same. Curiouser and curiouser, she follows her mother into Wonderland.

Grand sugar maples glow like soft embers. Light filters through these stained glass windows in the sky, gazed upon in the church of mother nature. Colors warmed and fluttering on a crisp breeze that cleanses when inhaled. Breathed in deep. Lungs filled.

Tension floating away with each twisting leaf. True calm shields them from a symphony of distraction. It washes over Olivia. Moments lacking the electric undercurrent from a tumultuous storm that usually follows such peace. They're clearing the air like that which flows around them.

Serena talks and talks. Confessing into the ear of the seasons' change so the words can be dropped from her shoulders and held underground, away from her, and bloom into something different come spring. She tasks the earth with her burdens.

Olivia listens and listens. Eyes closed and lulled by the tone of her mother's voice. Distilling truths large and small from her outpouring. The sentences pile until they would be large enough to jump into. Surrounded by wind whispered affirmations.

A daughter comforted by the knowledge that it's not her fault, but pain is blinding. Hushed apologies settle against her chest. A promise to do better for her, to be better for her, solidified by a scarlet painted pinky seeking absolution with a tight curl. Olivia pinches through denim and skin in an effort to prove she's awake in this dream.

All too soon, the sun fades into tomorrow and the moon starts its watch over a city that never sleeps. Cherished twilight hours Olivia holds onto when darkness creeps in and her mother chases invisible answers written at the bottom of a bottle. Red, yellow and orange tinted memories made.

Decades pass and she carries the weight of expectations and trauma tight across her torso. Sleeves get longer as the days get shorter and she takes steps to unburden herself from holding the reins.

She remembers how her mother's woes seeped into the soil.

Maybe this is how she can start to heal.

Maybe this is how they can start to heal.

So she guides him to this sacred ground. Proper reverence paid with the understanding he is the sole receiver of this piece of her past. Pages in her story, laid open, pristine from unworthiness. Only her fingerprints pressed in the margins.

She sits in the grass and tells the ironic tale of the sobering thoughts falling from a perpetually vodka-soaked woman. How the trees exemplified the notion of letting it all go. Confiding deep family shame in clouds that can't arch into a look of passed judgment.

Without question, Elliot lays back to better embody the scene described. She smirks at this stoic man sprawled out in a field, willing to reach for their futures by staring up at the mosaic dotting across their vision. She assumes the reassuringly familiar place by his side.

They watch as tiny arboreal ships are christened with the names of long-held sufferings and sail away on the wind from their combined restorative harbor.

They talk and they talk. About the sorrow-filled parts of their lives shaped like abandonment, hiding in the job, and fear of certain trust lost. About the joys of family and their partnership reunited. Giving voice to truths once tucked in the safe spaces of their minds; known but never verbalized. A need for one another no longer denied.

The weight of his heavy hand laced with hers anchors them both. And in the exhaustive quiet, she adjusts to rest her head on his broad shoulder.

He finally turns to look at her in the last blaze of sunset, when the golden rays pour over the artistry of her face. Their most obvious secret, too important to be said to the audience of the trees. Three life-changing words declared delicately from the heart, once confessed when they wouldn't be believed. Now said with clarity of spirit.

She holds the matching phrase. One remaining pause and she releases from tentative lips to exist forever beside his. A reflection looking down on them here among the flora.

They've let go of the past to better hold on to each other.


Note: The author of this SVU: Fall in Love story will be revealed in November