My Hidden Lives // Prose

107. about our first September

IMG_2387

Rain season swept into September in the manner of a friend who comes over carrying cookies and wine when you’re feeling blue and have resigned yourself to never leaving the apartment again. I hadn’t even noticed how much I missed the cold until I woke up to the scent of fresh concrete and damp dirt one morning. Memories of different cities flashed through the semi-dreamlike state. September used to be my month of leaving.

I could make a pot of coffee and write about this summer, I mused while groggily making my way toward the kitchen.  There are a few moments I’d like to fold into my suitcase, before I leave the year behind.

A student’s life is funny that way. Nothing new ever happens after „New year’s“ – it’s the academic year you set your body’s clock to, and September has always been the time for new promises. Resolutions.

You’re not a student anymore, my throbbing headache reminds me. I sip my coffee.

There are certain facts I tend to forget about myself sometimes, like my age. I stopped answering the „how old are you“ question without a pause when I turned twenty-one. I need a while to count the years mentally and place my current self on the global timeline. It’s 2013? That makes me… oh well. A lady never reveals her secret.

I need a new way to tell the time. The continuous-ness of the life before me is frightening. There are no fixed points anymore.

A loud roar-like sound distracts me from the task of devising a new calendar. Coffee in hand, I climb back into bed after opening the window wider. The cold wakes you.

„I think this is the first time I’ve heard you snore. It’s scary.“

You stick out your tongue at me and pull the blanket up to the eyes.

„Please tell me we’ve got some time left before we have to get up,“ you mumble.

„Don’t worry, there’s nowhere we need to be today.“

Even though it’s September, what I tell you is no lie. We spend the day in bed. Come evening, I mark the date on my calendar.

This is the first fixed point of my adult life. The 1st of September, the first time I heard you snore. The first autumn day I didn’t think of leaving.

I can’t wait for our next first.

I like this new measure I’ve found. A chronology of you.

Advertisements

You think, therefore you are.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s