Why would anyone hate September? With its sweet scent of pencil lead buried deep, new sneakers, leaves, forever the memory of growing seeds in Dixie cups. Because September is safe, soup and something new. All these years later and it is still the beginning. I love September for its simplicity, a purity that I can still taste if the light is right.
For a very brief second I thought about hugging her. Not really, but god. From the corner of my eyes I watched her thin fingers flip the pages of her magazine and I felt bad. Does she not remember circle-time? The fascination of earthworms smeared across the pavement after the first rain? Who made her childhood not feel safe? And is that why she hates September?
|Thank you Mom & Dad for giving me a safe childhood. Even if you apparently never brushed my hair.|
p.s. Not coincidentally, this is what Zoey and I are listening to lately.