Thursday, September 6, 2012

September. I want you. Really?


I just entered the month of September thinking: thank God that August is over.

Which is weird.

That's never happened before.

Ever.

August is my birthday month. Woo! Should be fun. Right? It was. Always is!

(was painful, too, but we're not going there)

It's also my darling nephew's birthday month, my parents' anniversary, the heart of the summer (my favorite season) and, this year, the month I fell surprisingly back in love with one of my best friends again.

So why do I want it to be over?

Weird.

Right?

But for the first time in my life, I'm wanting to go forward into the most horrible season ever after my most favorite one.

I actually WANT to go into the season that gets cold and close and suffocating to me.

Into the season I always feel less like myself and the most sad.

Because it was the season my Daddy got really sick and died.

As I was holding his hand even.

When he did.

And I was.

His last words to me when he was lucid was that he was proud of me. When he had no reason to be proud of me at that point, if I'm going to be honest here.

No.

But I think he IS now.

No.

I think he was then.

And.

I KNOW he is now.

Maybe that IS why I can want the "horrible season" as much as I do?

Hmmm.

Maybe. But that's a thought for a later date. And the next entry here.

Because this is the great thing about writing and having a silly little blog space and a place to just spew out words that you think mean nothing when you start writing but end up being the biggest something ever.

A realization you never knew.

Crazy cool, isn't it?