September

I can barely remember how it was last time. Last September I mean. How we felt or what we owned. Where I placed all of the bits and pieces that I’d accumulated. Like the tiny possessions lost in my bag. The rest of them living on my dresser. These couldn’t be the same Parliaments from last fall could they? I guess it doesn’t matter either way. But do you want one? It wasn’t this warm last year was it? It couldn’t have been. Not like today. The kind of warm that leaves a mark I mean. Maybe I wrote it down somewhere. The way it was temperature wise and otherwise. How can 12 days feel like months when sometimes 12 months pass like days? It was the longest trip we’d had in years and now I’m back wondering. What did I miss while I was away? Could someone fill me in or is that not how it works? Is it better to just “keep moving”. That’s written on a magnet somewhere isn’t it? We managed to freeze our time this morning though. Crying over scrambled eggs. Crying over whole wheat pita. Listening to my dad describe his mother’s cooking. What he liked and what he misses. A short list of favorites that cut me like a knife. Is that sweat or tears running down your face running down my face? I can’t tell the difference today.