“September rain falls on the house…”
- from “Sestina,” E. Bishop
Suddenly it’s mid-September, and I find myself with an empty nest as the Resident Teenager, who will require a new moniker, has fledged. The house echoes as I roam around looking for things to tidy, but the tidying has already been done in a massive therapeutic house-cleaning on the day he departed.
Two of my Little Neighbours have begun school. It’s a daily parade of pink and pigtails as they make their way along the sidewalk, full of chatter and the occasional finger up a nose. Not sure I’m ready for this, but I have very little say in the matter, same as for the no-longer Resident Teenager. When asked what’s the best thing about school, Little C answers, “Going home.” The same can’t be said for the no-longer Resident Teenager, who is thriving in his new, faraway school.
It’s been a lovely few months spent writing and re-writing, then revising, and now proofreading. In fact, I’ve pounded so hard on my computer that I’ve worn away some of the letters of my keyboard. Now I’m preparing to return to work, practising hard and turning my attention back to my musical life.
Occasionally the overlapping of my two worlds means a collision in my short-term memory, and sometimes I pay the price. This morning, for example, I found yesterday’s groceries exactly where I’d left them: in the trunk of the car.
Once I’ve got a handle on it, September should be a breeze.