“That” September

It will be two years ago in two weeks.  Hard to believe. In fact, almost impossible.

Two years.  I’ve been fighting that long.

I remember almost every detail.  I remember my students.  I remember the singing and dancing.  I had a ball. I remember the casual attitude I had towards my doctor’s appointment.  “I’ll be late, but I’ll be back tomorrow”, I told them.

And I have not been back since.

I miss teaching.  I miss it a lot.  I loved the interaction.  I loved the hope.  I loved that all they needed was a simple, “you can do this” note of encouragement and they were away to the races.

“Remember, I am proud of you.  Going back to school as an adult is not easy.  You are heroes.  You are super-stars having to balance school, work, children, parents, mental illness – maybe addiction… life”. These words were always part of my introductory speech.

“I will never walk away from you.  I will always help.  I am here for you.  If you quit – it is because YOU quit – not me.  I’m in it for YOU.”

Yes, I remember it well.

I can smell September in the air.  It smells different.  The excitement is palpable.  New beginnings, change, challenges.  I love it and hate it at the same time.  September knows what is coming.  The cool weather and falling leaves are inevitable.  We know this – and we hang on to August’s casual thread.  We can see it, but it slips ever so slowly through our fingers.  We are different.  September makes us grow up -face change.  We must change.  We must adapt.

It is an attitude.  September is an attitude.  I like it.  It is bold and crisp.  It is structured and clean.  It is the gate that swings open to a new path that awaits.

Crunchy apples.  Crisp leaves.  Dark mornings with steam coming off the pond.

Two years ago – September meant I was busy.  Marking, planning, problem-solving.  I had no idea my world/ our world would change so dramatically.  I remember the feeling of numbness when the words, “you have stage 4 cancer” crashed against my ears.  It was dark.  My head spun.  Crunch, crisp, crash… cancer.  Fall words to me.

But – fall leaves can be beautiful.  They are full of colour – a life all in it’s own.  Their vibrant colours are their swan songs.  Having cancer has made me realize that life is so ephemeral, vibrant.  It is not my swan song yet.  It is not yet my time.  I am here to breathe another fall, to crunch another apple… to watch another school year begin.  Exciting.  Grateful.

I continue to applaud those who return to school to better themselves.  I am still in awe.  I am still singing and dancing their praises.  I still have that September attitude – and am still here cheer-leading.  I’ve adapted.  I’ve changed.

And I will always remember… that September.

About inmycorner

This blog began as an opportunity to tell my Dad's stories. I sat with him and the computer and together we told stories. It was a wonderful way to get to know Dad. He was 9. He and Mom had a wonderful life together and since she passed away a year and a half before him - Dad was ready to join her. I no longer tell his stories but have found stories of my own. The impetus to resume this blog was the discovery that I had stage 4 ovarian cancer. Since blogging had been so therapeutic for my dad and I to get through our grief, I felt maybe this would be a good outlet to process my situation. I also hoped it may serve as an outreach to anyone else who is facing this very ominous journey. So far, so good.
This entry was posted in acceptance, attitude, autumn, Teaching, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

7 Responses to “That” September

  1. Gwen says:

    I too remember a phone call from a dear friend with news that “blew me out of the water”. I was casually sitting waiting to get my eyes checked. The need for “progressive lenses” seemed like a drop in the bucket in life’s struggles. I am immensely proud of the way you and your family and friends have fought this battle. The role of cheerleader has been passed on to others and we will continue to support you, my friend.

  2. Good for you. Applaud your grit.

  3. Judy says:

    Wow – I also have very poignant feelings related to fall. That chill in the air stirs up many feelings. My son died in the fall, but I can say since many years have passed that I am able to feel the season without the pain I once did.
    So glad you are in a place to appreciate the season despite the difficult things you have been and are continuing to go through. I feel for you. Beautiful writing, as always.

    • inmycorner says:

      Thanks, Judy. Supportive and compassionate response, as always. I’m so glad that “some” of the pain has been mitigated by years passing. I know it will always be with you. Let’s enjoy this fall together, shall we?

  4. Gallivanta says:

    Enjoy those apples. Enjoy the nurturing and cozy comfort which comes with fall.

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