It was October, and she was courageous.  It was October and she went where she knew life was changing, slowly and quickly all at once.  If she didn’t go now, she’d miss a window of opportunity.  It was October and she left the warmth of her home to go to the warmth of a city that might feel like home to her.  She had friends alongside her, but a bareness to her soul that she didn’t have when it Was May and she cried or when it was September and she Smiled.  She had shed layers that protected her, and she was being courageous.  She was unrestrained and more aware.  She was unrestrained and more free.  She was unrestrained and steps closer to her truth.  She was unrestrained and on the brink of owning that truth. She was conspicuous and proud and unafraid.  She landed in the small airport and made her way through crowds, and it was hot but not suffocating.  And she climbed into an old red car that felt beautiful in how dated it was.  Valued for so long, handled with tenderness, retaining its strength.  Something felt familiar, but she couldn’t quite figure out what.  She wove through a peaceful suburb that reflected the countryside, into a city that had layers upon layers upon layers of deterioration and beauty, filth and shine, history and relevance, peace and energy.  The beauty and shine and relevance and energy stayed with her, echoing inside, rolling into her courage. She walked up the marble steps, over the museum, off the old plaza, and settled into a room with a window overlooking a skyline that looked like uneven diamonds in a rough, with a breeze and music filtering into room.  What memories would come with her from this room, this city, this place? So many, she knew already, having not even opened her suitcase.  It was October and her courage was opening her, was letting her be known.  She led the way through city streets underneath a powerful sky, meeting the eyes of many who looked right at her.  She let herself be seen, she didn’t look away.  Her laugh bounced off the large doors and open windows and around the courtyards, uncatchable.  Her heart was full with emotions that didn’t scare her.  It was October and she courageously embraced the complexities woven through her heart.  There was no confusion, just brightness and light and clarity and acknowledgment.  She walked and let her steps silently brush the cobblestone streets, inviting a necessary intimacy in their uneven terrain.  The wind rushed through her hair and the salt water layered on her tan skin and clothes and the sun gently warmed her as the clouds remained powerful in their protection.  Dominating, breathtaking.  She courageously breathed it all in, wondering what would stay with her but not worried about its impact. She slept late and peaceful without any movement but with so many dreams.  She listened when she couldn’t speak, and spoke when she couldn’t understand.  She pieced words together as music and strokes of paint patched together the backdrop of her days.  It was October and it was warm and she was courageous.  Energy built, the familiar began to feel like home, she shined a little brighter.  The crumbling of walls happened around the city and around her heart, and nothing but beauty burst out.  Patches of sky blue underneath the white chipping away. The bittersweet, the potential that wasn’t in grasp, felt more stunning than anything.  It stunned her and she sat with it.  The city had something to say, she had something to say, her heart had been trying to say it.  For so long, so so long, she hadn’t said it. Not yet, not her truth, not fully. But her heart was peaceful with it. It was October and she didn’t want to leave this place where her fortress was crumbling alongside some of the courtyard walls.  She was in love with something within this city. (Was it herself?)  It was October and the courage was pouring from her eyes, and it was inviting.  She was aware of the invitation her eyes offered him before she could stop it.  He accepted the invitation before she could withdraw it, so unafraid to act, so quick with generous kindness. Tempted as she was to run and hide, she remembered: she had courage.  She had nothing to lose but a wall.  She owned her truth.  The strong colors of her heart blended into the strong colors of this city.  The beat of her laughter blended into the pull of the strings on a base, the ache of sound coming out of a trumpet.  Why withdraw? There was no reason, it was October and she was unrestrained and truthful and he was kind and generous and stunning in his presence.  The heights of her courage said to him, For a few days, I am here.  For a few days, We have moments.  For a few days, You can hold my hand.  For a few days, I will give you Me.  For a few days I will dance with You, let You watch Me dance, let You see Me smile.  For a few days I will give You glimpses of Me.  And she thought that was all she had to give, and it would be enough, it would satisfy him and her both. Then the rain fell and washed the city clean, polished white walls that had been, before, dusty. Fresh.   It was all pure even if an intricate history had got the city and Us here.  And she was no longer satisfied (he had never been).  And the rain kept falling and falling and falling, pattering against the uneven streets and in the courtyards and against the buildings that had make shift drainage.  He held her umbrella over her, except when she said she didn’t mind the rain coming down on her.  And the falling was hot and cleansing and wonderful and vibrant and surprising.  It paused life without stopping it. And the rain taught her lessons about falling and falling and falling and going with the Fall.  Just go with the fall. It was October and she wasn’t so scared to let the wave that crashed over the Malecón wall splash onto her.  She wasn’t so afraid to walk in wet clothes, clothes that couldn’t and didn’t hide her curves let alone what lay behind her eyes.    Her eyes had his wings and the shore where he drowns, so beautifully sung words, and he drown there willingly.  So willingly, when had someone been so willing before?  When had someone been so clear in his desires, so present in his offerings, so unrestrained by his own heart? So without restraint. So willing to give Her all of Him. He was the beautiful energy of the uneven streets and huge doors leading to courtyards filled with magic stairwells and art and music.  The courtyard outside her window, with its uneven skyline against the backdrop of powerful clouds, was imprinted each night and morning with their music and their words and her beauty and his presence and their voices, each day looking slightly shinier.  The clothes hanging to dry slightly brighter, the melodies of the birds slightly sweeter, the trees far away from the urban courtyard slightly more green. It was October and she was courageous.  It was October and she decided maybe she had more to give.