A certain time of year

The slight shiver combined with a quivering as the sweat glistens on the back of your neck. A cosy gloom illuminated by an almost flickering fire glow of a previously unnoticed lamp. A time of year. A temperature. A light. A feeling.

I love that I can wear my jumpers again. Slowly, my scarves are snaking their way out of their storage boxes. (Forget shoes or handbags, scarves are my true fashion drug.) The light on my desk glows rather than glares now that the sun sits a little lower in the sky. These are wonderful things.

The time of year, the weather - these are things everyone experiences. A shared and collective moment. But specifics are a tricky thing. Associations and triggers: these are secret, hidden away behind that cohesive externally experienced front.

The weather has turned this week. I don't mention this just because I'm British, although there is indeed quite the chill. Summer has officially say goodbye. But it's amazing the memories that this certain climate - a sudden downpour - can evoke.

Things I noticed: the rain, the more brown than grey sky.

In some ways to write is to have a personal, one-on-one conversation with the reader. One at a time. It is intimate. And this flicker of a flashback is something I wanted to share with you. Just you.

I am reminded of new terms at university. The influx of students from the other side as an upstanding local citizen. Overcompensating with a coat a little too soon and getting all sticky on the way to the coffee shop.

And I am reminded of an unexpected flight home.

This autumnal turn. The rain. The mucky rather than murky sky. It makes me close my eyes and see that brown sky. Columbus airport in the drizzling and dampening rain. I remember the bad coffee. The knot. The overwhelming desire not to be broken, but to be reinforced instead.

I do not feel it again. It has passed, just like the time. But it happened nonetheless, and it is a part of who I am and it is now a part of my season. It helped me start to write. It was the beginning of this conversation. And for that I am thankful.

And, over time, I can say that I've since become rather fond of September.