Welcome, September!

For me, September is always a beginning, a promise, and a reminder to slow down and…football.

I think it’s my midwestern roots, but I actually require seasonal changes.  For me, the seasons are the chapters of my year…

Fall reminds me of those things that make me most happy: my family, Ohio State football, reading, and the years I’ve traversed with my husband.

He wasn’t always my husband…but he has always been in my life and he taught me how to kiss one September evening.

I was in seventh grade, he was in eighth.  We walked to get a pizza and then walked around.  Walking around – driving around – that’s what we did in the 80s…the Life Before the Great Awakening,,,

The “magic” happened behind The Big Bear…

It was almost dark – not night time dark, but dark enough to create the shadows necessary to hide my twitches – and the air felt clean the way only a midwestern autumn night can.

It lasted maybe 30 seconds…

I still remember thinking, “this doesn’t feel terribly clean, opening your mouth onto someone else’s…but…maybe this isn’t just about oral hygiene.”

26 years, 2 kids, 4 states later, here we are, still watching football and the seasons change, and…

When I look at the sea of 7th graders I spend my days with, I wonder if any of them will “watch football” together 26 years from now?  If so, I do hope they find me and tell me that story.

My first kiss was my first, but there were other “remembered kisses” through the years – some even in London – but all mine and all with their very own story.

September has come, it is hers
Whose vitality leaps in the autumn,
Whose nature prefers
Trees without leaves and a fire in the fireplace.
So I give her this month and the next
Though the whole of my year should be hers who has rendered already
So many of its days intolerable or perplexed
But so many more so happy.
Who has left a scent on my life, and left my walls
Dancing over and over with her shadow
Whose hair is twined in all my waterfalls
And all of London littered with remembered kisses.