September Reflections

September. It brings to mind thoughts of the approaching fall. The return to school. The hope of cooler temperatures. So many visions collide in my mind when thinking of September. It just seems like a month filled with a myriad of emotions.

September is, of course, the anniversary of one of the greatest American tragedies in the nation's history. The September 11th attacks. I don't think a year will ever go by that I won't think about that day. Was it really four years ago? I remember where I was, what I was doing, the first person I talked to after I got the news, the rumors, the speculation...all of it. I can't even see the numbers 9/11 without the flash of memory flooding my mind. It seems almost superstitious to make appointments on that day, you know?

But September, for me, has many personal connotations associated with it. It almost feels like September is a superstitious month or something...for both good and bad things.

September 8, 1972, my parents married. She was 19, he was 18. Two young people started their lives together. Who knew that the preacher's daughter and the bad boy would still be married 33 years later? Apparently God did. He gave them three daughters, two sons-in-law and a granddaughter who they cherish, a safe and happy home they've enjoyed for 25 years and a plethera of family, friends, and pets.

September 9, 1985, my cousin Brent was born. I was 6. By the time I was 11 and he was 5, I was his weekend babysitter when our moms went grocery shopping on Saturdays. He was my baby. We would dance around like monkeys and generally drive my sisters crazy. We fought, we played...once, he even let me put make-up on him and put his hair in a ponytail. Now, he's a soon-to-be 20 year old sophomore in college who works as a student worker two floors down from me. We still play together, laugh together and when no one's looking, dance around like monkeys.

September 12, 2002, my sister's best friend, and my good friend, Melanie, was nearly killed in a car accident on her way home from work. She was a nursing student who was doing her clinicals an hour away from home, she had a four-week-old baby girl as well as a two-year-old daughter and a 7 year-old-daughter. She had just turned 25 and had two semesters left before completeing her nursing degree. A work van hit her car and nearly killed her. When I got the call on Friday, September 13, she was in a medically induced coma with possible brain damage. Now, three years later, she is alive and fully functioning. She will never quite be the same as she was before and her nursing degree will likely never be completed, but she lives a full and happy life as a full time mom to her three girls who are growing like weeds and she appreciates the value of life more than she ever did before.

September 6, 2004, my life long dream of setting foot in the great city of Nashville, TN came true. My sister and brother-in-law invited me to vacation with them and my niece last year and as the Jeep entered the Nashville city limits, my stomach gave a little flip. If you've read previous posts, you know what a nut I am about country music and my long ago dream of singing. Along with that dream of singing was the experience of Nashville. For three days and two nights I got to live that dream. We toured the city on one of the tour buses, toured the Ryman Auditorium, the Church of Country music. I even got to stand on the stage of the Ryman where legends have stood in decades past. It was an incredible rush and over far far too soon. I attended a Grand Ol' Opry show there later that night and then the very next day, we toured the Country Music Hall of Fame. As we left that historic city a part of me mourned. My stay there was all to brief.

September 9, 2004, I got my first view of the Mississippi Gulf Coast as we made our way south to visit my brother-in-law's mom who had a home in Bay St. Louise. The wonderment that filled me as I took my first steps out onto the sand clogged my throat and my face was etched into a smile. It was late in the afternoon when we got there and by then the water had receded leaving little "islands" that I watched my niece hop back and forth on. She couldn't even wait to put her suit on...she jumped in clothes and all. We spent three days and two nights down there soaking up the sun, the beach, the water, the shops. We drove to Pass Christian to go antiquing. We drove to Gulfport to the Marina and took in a show with the Sea Lions. My brother-in-law took us out to eat at Ray's Shrimpshack and I saw a shrimp with it's head for the first time. Thankfully, my BIL removed them for me. As we left late that Saturday afternoon, my heart longed to stay behind. I felt I hadn't seen all there was to see. I hadn't felt enough of the gulf breeze or walked enough on the mounds of sand. Now all that is gone save for the pictures I carry in my head.

September 12, 2004, we had returned home the night before. Sis1, BIL and my niece were getting ready to return to Alabama. My parents were returning from their Anniversary getaway weekend and Sis2 and I were visiting at my house after church. I was in the midst of telling her all the tales from the previous week's adventures when the phone rang. It was my mother. They had just gotten home but she was taking Daddy to the ER. He was having chest pains and difficulty breathing. A heart attack we would learn later. As Sis2 and I rushed to meet them at the hostpital, my heart was in my throat and I saw my life with Daddy flash before my eyes. The very thought of losing him made me nearly crumble. I had never been a Daddy's girl. Most of my childhood was spent watching him dote on Sis2 who was the tomboy...the hunter, the fisher, the rough houser of the three of us. It was only in the most recent years prior that he and I had formed a bond of adults...friends of sorts. So as I faced him there in the ER lying on a gurny as they prepaired to move him to the Tupelo hospital, all the regrets, the longings of the child I had been gurgled in my throat and spilled from my eyes. Three days later he had a triple bypass surgery and two days after that he was home and the slow road to recovery was begun. Now, a year later, he's healthy again though not as strong as he used to be.

Now this year, though Katrina technically hit in August, her aftermath will always be a September memory for me.

Every month holds special memories for me but for some reason September always seems to loom larger and grow each year. Here's hoping that next September is a brighter one.