9/3

Last September was literally one of the best months of my life. I’m a dramatic person, but that’s not hyperbolic.

It started with being in one of my best friend’s weddings, went right into Beyonce, my birthday, my brother’s wedding, my parents meeting my boyfriend, and ended with another best friend visiting to celebrate our 20th anniversary of friendship. The weather was near perfect. I walked in gardens, took hundreds of photos, ate amazing food, and cried almost daily out of sheer overwhelming gratitude. (I wasn’t kidding about being dramatic). One of the most silly, fun moments was having to do traffic school in between my brother’s ceremony & reception because I waited so long I had to do it or there would be a warrant out…I did it in my little apartment all dressed up while my dad nodded off on the sofa across from me. We joked and he gave me such a hard time, then promptly fell asleep like a toddler. That was how the month was, even when I was doing traffic school, I was somehow having such a good time.

And I knew no September would ever compare. When else do you go to a Beyonce production and that’s not the best thing that happens that month!? 

But this year won’t just be the September Without Beyonce. It’ll be the September Without Dad. 

*sigh* and I feel it in every piece of me. Football has started and I have no one to talk to about it. No one in Portland cares about football (which is fair, why do we still care about football?). For the first time in my adult life, I’m doing a fantasy football draft without him. I had to Google players, which occurred to me only now that I’ve never had to do, and it’s not because I’m in tune with the NFL roster. I’m not going to get any new Packer gear for my birthday, nor any other silly gifts I probably don’t want, nor a card, a “favorite day of the year” voicemail, nor a hug.

I have no one to call to talk about the weather (68 to 98 degree swing within a day, for the record) and I have no one to commend me on running a blood drive, or to talk to about getting older like we do every year. I keep saving podcasts he never would have even listened to when he was alive because he genuinely didn’t understand the concept of a podcast even though he pretended to. I keep taking photos of flowers I would send him, if only there was someone on the other line. And I saved the voicemail from 2023, but I likely won’t be able to muster the courage to listen to it on my birthday.

This September, I feel a pull of “I don’t want to do that” when something is going to make me extra sad. I’ve been really good about it, but this month…I just can’t. I don’t want to watch football, but I will. I don’t want to go back to the dahlia farm, but it’s my favorite place, so I will. I don’t really want to celebrate my birthday, but I will, just quietly. I don’t want to take calls from people who aren’t him, but I know if I don’t I’ll just be extra sad, so I will. 

Weirdly, the leaves are turning early this year. Usually early September starts to get a little cooler at night, but the leaves don’t turn quite yet. This year there are small peeks of red and orange at the tops of the trees, inching down quicker than usual. A few days of 68 degrees and rainy have started to creep in, reminding us that we’re not far from the seemingly permanent cloud cover of autumn and winter. Maybe it’s just that I’m noticing things that I didn’t notice last year, or maybe it’s that the universe is throwing me a little bone and will pretend to skip September altogether. Because it wouldn’t have been good anyway, even with Beyonce.