September and I have never really been entirely comfortable with each other, with its end of summer, start of school, and an inevitable new birthday on which i am expected to celebrate but typically just ponder. Even worse, for the last three years i have left a home every September: in 1998 from my childhood home to my mother’s current house, in 1999 from that house to the dormitories at Drexel, in 2000 from the dormitories to my first apartment, and last year from that apartment to the one i currently share with Erika, Lindsay, Kate, and Karen. September brings in change and the beginnings of golden leaves and cooler weather, and when it is over i hardly ever know what to make of it.
And, now, in my twenty-first go through the month, somehow it has contrived to change itself. Summer never really existed for me, so it cannot end. School has ceased to be a surprise. My birthday looks as though it might be the first time i celebrate the entire day with people who i’d actually choose to spend it with. And, i am staying in the same room of our apartment for another year.
I feel as though i can dig deeper or say more, but it just comes down to this: Change happens, and sometimes changing is just staying the same. I’m just not sure how i feel about it.