Where does the time go? Hither and fro. Over and yonder and far and away, time is a child, and the child loves to play. September closes while October waits, and don’t we all have plans to make? So what comes next? No one can say. It belongs to us to only bide the hours and count the days.
Try to remember them: The days of smoke, of rain, of golden leaves and woodfire embers and orange twilights. The growing nights, ignited by the tawny harvest moon, as full and round with possibilities as the coming season. These are the September kind. The hours and minutes and memories, the time and the turning, the living and dying that belong to us, when we feel older and younger at once. We are all the children of the fall.
Long lost, then found. And found again. You and I – we keep coming back to each other, my old forgettable friend.
*I am currently in the middle of a weeks-long, house-wide decluttering spree, having decided I can no longer stand the state of my closets, drawers, cabinets, and other storage spaces. I don’t have regrets. BUT, this was a much better idea before I got started.*
Half of my heart is here with me, the other half’s in the hills. I’m not ashamed of where I’m from. I carry them in me – my mountains, my people, those places and faces and powerful memories. See, you can take the girl out, but she’ll come home whenever that strong heart wills.
They arrive and darken the skies. With a boom and a crack, like sprinters on a track, they test their mettle for the measure of a moment. And in the end, they are like victory – so very short, nearly fleeting. But never, ever sweet.
Breathe it in – saltwater and sea air – and feel the sunshine on your skin, almost too warm. Be (just be) without a care for a moment, a day, a tiny fraction of your total time. Give yourself this – this memory, this place. For now, right now, the rest of the world can wait.
A secret thing, three little words I need to hear from you. Maybe I’m selfish to want them, to feel like I have something to lose. So small, and fleeting, those three words. Out of your mouth and into the ether they’ll go, as if they never existed at all. But I’ll know.