I woke on a dark morning. It was September, the air was chilled, and reality sounded like air-raid sirens warning that I had been deceived. The summer which seemed eternal was only a dream. No wood in the shed yet and a summer's worth of dire projects yet to be started, what happened?
You would think that I would learn. September is always the same unless you are looking at the Laguna Madre, but even then, December comes. It is a gravity, and you do not get to escape it. You cannot opt-out.
Many months ago I filled this month's calendar with things to do, never thinking about the things that would be undone. Painting myself into a corner that if I do not follow through, I will have regrets.
I stopped at the top of the hill in the crisp cool morning, I thought about what we lost on this last journey around the sun. Karen, Wayne, Henry, and Joan. We are taking this one without you, but we still remember. It has been a long journey and in some ways I was only 7 years old moments ago.
Then it was 1975. I can hear the airwaves as they once sounded, I can smell the air of those days. I can hear every creak in the floor, door closing, fluorescent light humming, and steam radiator banging.
Every moment is indeed precious. There is something that can be made in every one of them. To sit while the world spins and screams through the universe cannot be allowed to happen.
You may wonder why all the contrast. Honestly, it is because I AM NOT READY. I really am not. Every moment needs a name. Every single one. This is just me, having my annual tantrum because I did not understand how short a summer can be once again. I never learn and I am sure that I never will.
My heart cries out for you Summer. You were there a moment ago and now I am not even sure you ever existed other than in a story that was told to me long ago. Was it a dream? I swear it wasn't. <sigh>
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