Dear reader, I can hardly believe this month, this beloved month of my childhood, is about to slip away without commemoration. Life, what has happened that September could be stolen from me in this way?
September was a favorite time of year, growing up. I loved the name alone, I was thrilled to go back to school, I suppose it seemed special because of my birthday, but mainly I loved the sights and smells of autumn. It seemed I could not sufficiently take it all in, no matter how deeply I breathed or how much I tried to see.
This particular September has been kind of tough...dealing with a busy school schedule, children growing up, an array of health concerns. It's been a tender time, a troubling time, and it has left me quieter, more dazed, yet sometimes more at peace than usual.
Izzy turned sweet sixteen this month. Her pain issues continue to confound and persist. It seems we are at doctor's appointments or physical therapy appointments nearly every day of the week. Sometimes I feel faithful about it, though blindly faithful; other times I feel too tired and discouraged to rally those feelings. Then I feel badly for faltering...there is so much goodness around me, I wonder why I don't reach for it at every moment.
I've begun working on my novel again. The progress is slow and since it's already been revised several times, I'm not sure why this is...still so many doubts and distractions, so many things to fix. Words can be slippery, dear reader, and other times they won't budge. I had an idea the story would be finished by now and well into a search for literary representation, but it appears the revision will take more time. On the bright side, I can no longer worry about this or try to hasten a process that insists upon its own pace, further slowed by the realities of the day.
I see more clearly this is beauty: to have any moment at all, and all of them together.
Do you remember when I walked down a long, damp driveway on my way to school?
I remember you then, September.
I still hold you in my heart.