September means just one thing in my stunted little brain, and that’s the first day of school.
Never mind that I’ve been out of school and/or university for thirty plus years. Summer is for swimming in the sea and going barefoot and reading books. September is for new shoes and maybe a new skirt and sweater, a hair cut, folders, pens, pencils, notebooks.
Back when I was fifteen, I never imagined that my brain would follow the school year forever, but it does. I wonder if there’s still a little sigh in the subconscious each January, when the threat of exams doesn’t materialize.
And have you ever noticed how people say, a little sadly, “wow, summer just flew by this year.’
It flew by because the person in question has a job, and maybe had a week or two off, but basically it was just a month or two like any other month or two.
Most summers I’m writing — trying desperately to get a book to come together by September for publication the following September.
But this year I finished a book just before summer began. And then my laptop went on the blink. So for the better part of two months I had nothing to do but go barefoot and swim in the sea and read books.
Don’t even need new shoes now.