The day was autumn, end of October. It was raining, the wind was strong. The leaves were burning in yellow, brown and red, as they fell toward the ground in twirling movements. I’d been crying. So had you.

She left that day, taking most of her things with her. You stayed. We were from here on to be torn between you two every other week ‘til the day we’d fly off, to get something of our own.

Suddenly the falling rain was joined by the season’s first snow. Dancing together, the water in liquid and solid form waltzed in rapid rate, almost racing, down and further down, in the symphony of the whistling wind, waiting for the clash when they were to be rejoined with earth - for a moment lying on top of her, during the time of one last breath, and then finally become absorbed by her. My common sense was also waltzing – the sorrow in my soul and the hope of that this was the start of a new chapter, both struggling over who was to lead.

We’ll get by, we always do, every time losing and gaining a part of ourselves. Experience is a product of life, as is waltzing. But who is to lead?