These months brought to you by tea, writing, and impromptu Samhain wear. :)
September. October. My dears, you have been a time. Such a time, in fact, that I’m writing these reflections on November 11th, combining vaguely hellish twins into one body. I suppose that lingers in the spooky season we’re leaving. It fits.
Autumn is my favorite season, and always has been. Everything about autumn—the weather, the treats, the fashion, the drinks, the holidays and celebrations—sparks joy within me. Typically, autumn, to me, feels like a fresh start. It feels like a blank page ready to be filled with story, discovery, photography, family. The majority of my favorite memories reside in autumnal times: hiking at Indian Cave State Park with my family, our old yearly tradition; munching on caramel apples and sipping hot cider at a pumpkin patch; taking aesthetic photos on hay bales and in farmer’s markets; handing out Halloween candy to the kiddos and seeing their smiles at the costume compliments. Autumn has always been my favorite time of year.
And while 2020’s autumnal months did hold joy and love and laughter, I have to admit: September and October, you had more than your fair share of awful this year.
The two of you brought lessons in grief and uncertainty, burning with the intensity of a bonfire. You reinstalled the garage door shackles on my throat: when you chose to, you clamped them tight, preventing voice from forming. You had me listen to speeches of pain and sadness that will never leave my mind. You reminded of vagaries and fear. On occasion, you made the light at the end of the tunnel into a near-obsolete pinprick. You brought anxiety. You brought panic. Pain. Helplessness. Fear. Frustration. Anger. Worthlessness. In short, you were everything an autumn season shouldn’t be.
Or were you?
Because, now that I’m on the other side (and still my lovely, panicky self you all know and love), I’m seeing that perhaps that was the page this year. It just wasn’t fully blank. It was more of a Mad Lib, the essential story there, just waiting to see how I would react to the blanks. Waiting to see how I would help others over the wide yawn of those blanks. The Hell Twins of September and October pushed me like no other (and let me tell you, it’s still pushing), but maybe, when I look back, it will be what was needed. Just maybe.
Right now, that’s a little hard to see. All I can say is that, hey. We made it. We made it through two more months. We’re damn well here.
And there were some marvelous things. I finished the biggest chunk of my grad school applications. My brother was killer on his varsity football team. Mom and I baked a delicious cake, and have started a movie night tradition (Rebecca was first; Enola Holmes is next!). Jay and I have been bingeing Supernatural from the very beginning in our patented loft fort. I accidentally wrote a fabulous OID piece (speechies, hit me up). I bought all of the Christmas presents, because it brings me joy. My dog has decided my bed is her favorite place to lounge. My social media is covered with friends’ children being introduced to the world, puppies growing into dogs, artists releasing their newest work, and a huzzah to a new political era. All of that is good. And without September and October, none of that would have happened.
So, in short, I suppose I should say thank you. Thanks, autumn. You were awful in many ways, but you brought a lot of good, too. See you on the flip side.
And hello there, November. Let’s see what you bring.
(Besides my sister’s 17th birthday – she should absolutely still be four, and I’m calling B.S. on this.)
Let’s go, winter wonderland.
Rhiannon
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