Dancing in September
It's Time for the Fat Lady to Sing

The Pull of September

I have always loved September.

When I was a little girl, I loved school.  In fact, the first day of school was right up there with Christmas Day for me.  (That -  and my family's annual trip to the Kiddie Land amusement park.)  Big excitement!  It was all so fresh . . . and new! 

I loved summertime, too. . . don't get me wrong.  But by the time the end of August rolled around, I was ready for the NEW and the CHANGE that September represented.  I was ready for structure.  I was ready for school.  I was ready to get to work!

Come September, I had a new teacher and a new grade and a new classroom.  I got new shoes and a new lunchbox and some new dresses.  Best of all . . . I got new school supplies.  I loved buying - and then organizing - my new school supplies.  Crayons.  Big Chief pads.  Pencils.  A big eraser.  A ruler.  A new pencil box.


The academic calendar -- September through May with a restorative break for the summer - has resonated with me since first grade.  Even when I was out of school (finally. . .) and working (before I had kids on their own academic calendar), I felt that Pull of September!  For me, September seems to be the most appropriate time to launch new goals and plans and resolutions.  I understand the whole New Year's thing. . . the turning over of the annual calendar and the fresh January feeling that comes with it.  But. . . it's still the middle of winter.  Nothing is changing, really.  Except the number of the year.

So. . . for me, September = Fresh Start.

Or. . . it DID.

Until 2008.

In 2008, September started to represent something altogether different for me.  It was in September 2008 that my cancer nightmare grabbed hold and wouldn't let go.  It was in September 2008 that I entered the horrible period when I knew that something was terribly wrong with me.  But I didn't know what . . . yet.  But words like. . .biopsy . . .  and malignant . . . and lymphoma . . .  were in the air.

September 2008 . . . offered no diagnosis.  No idea of possible treatment options.  No doctor.  No notion of extent or prognosis.  (That all came in October.)  Just the awful. . .



clawing at the air for answers

kind of agony.  Through all of September.  It didn't feel like a Fresh Start.  It felt like a nightmare.

In the Septembers that have followed . . . 2009, 2010, 2011 . . . I've slowly come back around.  Those first couple of Septembers were pretty tough.  I went to The Edge.  I plunged over.

Last year, I was much better.

And this year?  2012?  Four years later?

I'm feeling the Pull of September in a very strong way.  A good way.  This year, I feel like dancing at The Edge.

So I bought myself a new box of crayons. 


Just to open them up and see their colorful, fresh points . . . all lined up in the box.  


My new crayons . . . are a symbol of . . .

new beginnings

a time to set goals

an opportunity to re-group and prepare myself for the next nine months

life . . . moving forward


For the first time in a few years . . . September = Fresh Start!