Solace

For me, for these past many years, September is the cruelest month. I know I will be pitched around, submerged beneath some icy, stormy waves, left without my bearings. Some days, I'll be energetic and accomplish items on my to-do list. On far too many others, my custom-blend, java wake-up pot will ping harmlessly against my torpor.

September has signalled many happy times in my life. The beginning of a new school year, the anticipation of reuniting with friends, the excitement of opening football games. When I lived on the east coast, there would always be that one September morning when you left the house attired in your cotton and short sleeves prepped for the summer heat and humidity. But overnight, it was gone -- collapsed and dissipated for the year. You needed a sweater that morning, that day, and the layering season had begun. Here in Northern California, Sept. weather can be anything -- heated, chilly, foggy, clear -- it's just a way station for next month's Indian summer.

Establishing a routine, putting together year-end goals, outlining major projects -- all the big ideas, the semblances of order -- seem to exhaust me as I ponder them. Where will I summon the energy to put them into effect? And so I seek solace in small ways, in circumscribed activities. Knitting on small needles. Listening to Keith Jarrett's Koln Concert. Folding the laundry. Dreaming of the perfect guacamole. If the weeds don't get pulled, if the green recycling bin doesn't get put out, I'll try again in two weeks.

And in spite of myself, I can still be surprised, still brush up against unanticipated pleasures. Meeting the boys after school on Tuesday, I experienced the life of their school for the first time this year. There is nothing so alive as an elementary school at the end of the school day! The explosion of energy as kids stream out of the doors and down the steps to meet waiting parents and siblings. Son the younger, the daredevil, is riding around the playground on his trick bike with one friend propped on the handlebars, while another friend tries to say goodbye. We have to rush to avoid a parking ticket and so join the throng of families on the sidewalk, checking to see that we have everything -- backpacks, sweatshirts, homework -- before we dash to the bakery, on the way to the barbershop, to get back home in time for dinner, so that mom can head off to back to school night. I get to babysit the boys, negotiate double dessert, check over homework and curl up with them and a movie, while mom visits with this year's teachers.

Routine, goals, projects... forget about it 'til next month. For today, tonight, I'll just go along for the ride with them.