Septembers

September always brings out the nostalgia in me. As soon as the sun starts to set in that decidedly not-August way, I begin seeking opportunities for solitude. It is at this time of year that I especially enjoy spending time with my thoughts. I do so all year long, but the nature of my thoughts goes in cycles.
In December, I gear up for the New Year. I set goals, resolving to fix those parts about me and my life that, once again, didn’t fit quite right the previous twelve months.
In July, around my birthday, I invariably tally up my life’s successes versus my – well, maybe not failures, but let’s call them disappointments. I focus on the benefits of being older and wiser.
But when September rolls around, my thoughts free-fall back in time to my teenage years.
I think of the crushes I had on those boys who didn’t call, and the ones who did. I think of the hopefulness of the school year just beginning, and the promise it still held. I think of the adventures I had with my friends, how naïve we were to get into those messes and how lucky we were to survive them. I think of the focus and determination I had then, how the endless possibilities drove me to be prepared for whatever may come my way. I had absolutely no vision of what adulthood looked like, but I was pretty sure it involved me driving a car and owning a purse. Even so, I was unswayed by all that I did not know.
And I love that about the me I used to be. Looking back at the younger me, I feel protective towards her, how the Me Then didn’t know that things were going to get a lot harder. I want to hug her for braving it all, for lurching forward into the future thinking she would figure it out, by golly! That’s the spirit!, I think.
Maybe that’s one of the reasons I like to spend time thinking about those years, to remind myself of my own spirit. I don’t have as much of it now. I fear it won’t come back.
Yesterday I listened to a woman sing a song about looking back at her younger self and thinking of the what-might-have-beens. Shine on me, sweet seventeen, she sang. I knew exactly what she meant.
As I neared my apartment the other night, I saw the lights were on. I came out of my reverie happy to be living in the present. I don’t have to worry about the guy I like not calling me. He’s making me dinner and waiting for me to come home.