Something happens to me this time of year that takes me to my knees. Everything is too beautiful. The light is honey filtered and glorious. I know it won't last and let's face it, winter will be around the corner. And that's ok. I'm pulling out my sweaters. And I have new work socks. And my new favourite Netflix series. Offspring. The best fucked up family series ever. Makes me feel almost normal, whatever the hell that means. Normal is highly overrated in my opinion.
I lived through a couple of catastrophic and totally unpredictable events one September. It was a long time ago, but somehow my body still remembers. Involuntary response. Grief is like that right? A scent, a ray of light through a darkened cloud, a strain of music. Killer. And by the way, all those things you lay awake fearing will happen, probably won't. You can't prepare sometimes for what you're delivered, so stop stressing.
Some Septembers are easier than others. This one is the first I've walked through without the buffer of an anti depressant. It's ok. I'm making curry for twelve even though I'm home alone. I'm scrubbing my bathroom. And that's ok too. There's a beauty in survival. You learn to love the cracks in between and love the space people leave behind when they leave the planet. If you're lucky,sometimes they visit you in your dreams.
I'm arranging flowers I bought for five bucks at a roadside stand today. I love my house this time of year. It smells good. Like end of summer sunshine. My monkey of a grandson is coming to see me tomorrow,most likely to follow an ant for three hours and give me a lecture on echolocation. I love him. And then I get Paco. I love him too and I really hope he fits in my new shower.