I don’t know exactly what it is that makes it happen. I can’t honestly say that I have any idea what it was that caused it all to start. You were always just a solitary red leaf on the nearly sleeping maple. However, against the pristine odds that I had always favored, all preconceived thoughts of normalcy then began to wither away like chipping paint on the wall or the dust of an incense twig, slowly burning in a downward trail of ash. That was the day that the maple set you free. As you meandered through the open autumn sky, set ablaze by your nostalgic sunlight, I saw you as something I had never believed you to be in days prior; you were something more than I had ever dreamed of: ecstasy. It felt so right; it felt so perfect to be seen in your eyes. I never had the faintest dream of what you thought of me. Reality was irrelevant. I had always known just what to do, just what to say. When you and I crossed paths, all things were magnified yet less worrisome. All I knew was your eyes, engaged in the most captivating and gorgeous storm I have ever known. I have never in my life known such magic as that which I held in your stormy, dark blue eyes. What a wonder you were to behold. You floated without a care through the late September breeze, and I could have sworn that I loved you. Like it tends to do near the end of each day, the sun then set, and the darkness enveloped all things in sight. It was more difficult to see you without the brilliant, burning light of your glowing skin. I could no longer find you; no longer breathe you in so deeply as I once had. I craved the ecstasy of your smile. I needed you to return. One thing I had always been sure of was my skill and ability to find words; embellishments. When I couldn’t find you, I lost the words, too. For so very long, the words battled in my mind, crawling through pores, into my skull, crushing everything inside again and again and again and again. They couldn’t escape, and nothing could be better to pass the excruciating prospect of time than to let the words duke it out. I would return to the tree many times and see you there in the sky again, floating without any care. Seeing you in the air, still searching for what made you free, I realized I couldn’t blame you for needing something else. Could I really blame a being such as me for wanting what we all (really) want? Happiness of the purest form? Love? What kind of a person would I be for keeping you here on the ground? Today I returned yet again to that glorious, towering maple of incendiary scarlet and tangerine, and I brought with me a gift of sorts. Not a gift for you, but a gift that was truly for myself. This gift was not much of a tangible object but more of a sentimental expression to set myself free. I brought with me a gorgeous, stormy blue balloon, decorated with words I had eventually regained over time, despite the almost endless agony. I had arrived at the unforgettable destination that was forever ingrained with my own soul, and I had only one goal in mind as I walked toward the tree one last time. The time had come to finally let you go. I gave that maple one last glance because I knew I could never return for as long as I lived. Memories, of course, flooded into my weary mind, and attempted to break my stride like they always did, but this time, I was decided and sure. Today was the day and I was certain of at least that much. I allowed myself to remember you as you were at that point where it all started: silent, beautiful, solitary. You said so little yet you said so much to me. Maybe, in the end, I really did know what had made it all happen. My grip on the silver string loosened and I watched as my pain was set free into that same nostalgic, blazing, sunlit sky. Your stormy eyes are now a mere distant memory. Those eyes are now the eyes of something much more perfect; they are the eyes of a friend.