Yesterday, I found myself conversing with my dear mother about the ways of our kin; some will take you home and bring you much needed comfort, akin (excuse the pun, will you?) to a good cup of tea. Others will test each drop of your kindness, but will take you home regardless, because, in the grand scheme of everything, they are still kin. And September, as my mother and I conversed, my wandering eyes found the window to my left, and all it had to reveal. September, at that time, I realized you were beginning to change colours.
It feels as if it was no longer than yesterday, wherein I was writing to August about its unapologetic, glorious heat. I almost felt a wave of dread overcome me as I began to anticipate autumn’s chilliness and back-to-university/mundane-routine. However, at another glance, my wandering eyes observed that summer’s luscious greens trading themselves for rich hues of golds, browns, and reds was not less than of a bargain. Certainly, a charm of its own.
September, you reminded me that life is in ecstatic motion and it would be entirely fruitless to lose myself in petty woes. September, you reminded me that there is beauty in everything, the all-kinds-of-kin, the always changing seasons and life, in its entirety. Thank you September. I hope I’ll prove to be a more gracious guest of yours when you come around next time, God willing.