If August was the month of excess, of too much heat, too much summer, then September is the month of realization. Coming to the conclusion that it is going to start getting darker soon, it is not just a faraway thought. Knowing that the beautiful sunny days are going to go away, and soon. Rains will fall, temperatures will drop, the gorgeous flowers will droop. September is both the month of knowing, and of denial. Knowing that it can't last forever, even though in August we thought it could. Denial that it will happen, and happen very soon. Sweaters come out of hibernation, socks crawl out from under the bed, and wrap themselves comfortingly around our feet.
The cat sleeps even more, crawling sleepily and sloth like, from a patch of warm light to pillows drenched in the last of the golden honey. He has no recall, no memories of of shivers, chills, and drenching rain. He lives in the moment, and the moment is now, a patch of sun, and a full tummy. He does not know this is the month of realization. And if he did, he would not care. Sometimes I think that I want to be the cat. Leaves change, almost before our eyes, turning into golden drips, amber crystals sparkling in brown sugar sun. We know what is coming, and we dread it, even as we allow the last kiss of the summer warmth to touch our heads