August 31, 2023

Last day

August is spent. Everyone loves September. I remember moving to New Orlean September 1969. I was in a hardware store and they were playing the song that went: Try to remember the kind of September when life was slow and oh, so mellow. I guess some find these lyrics trite. But on that day, at age 19, I realized my childhood was gone. My father had been diagnosed with heat disease some years earlier and he then 55. This didn’t invoke the terror I had during the Cuban Missile Crisis, but it was a reckoning.

The winds are blowing. It’s night and dark. I vision the dry leaves blowing. Although we don’t really have dry leaves. Terry and I have settled into our predictable patterns. He’s reading quietly turning the pages like a bible in church. The same amount of concentration on his face as a scholar. It’s a Laurie King mystery from a little free library.

I had to get a new phone. Along with the flu, I had to work though remembering all my passwords that I don’t usually need to use. To get into this app, Word Press, took me two hours. And now the wind has stopped and all is quiet and still. And a little sad.