September creeps up on a person.
You’re enjoying a gin and tonic after work and it’s still warm out, the glass is sweating.
Then suddenly you need a sweater when you walk a block for ice cream because you have none in the freezer and tonight is not a night that can end without dessert.
Suddenly you’re carrying a bag full of books again, comfortably heavy on your shoulders.
You missed the particular weight of books. Nothing else feels quite the same.
Happiness creeps up on a person too.
You woke up this morning and felt it.
You felt whole.
You woke up and saw the pictures on your wall.
They smiled down at you like they always do but this time you smiled back.
You woke up and saw the world map above your desk with its crayon colored countries and you thought, “I’ll go to them all someday.”
You walked down the street with a friend to the neighborhood café.
You savored every sip of that ordinary iced tea and thought what a nice color it was, that rich mahogany color that inexplicably always makes you think of your grandfather.
Today all the small moments of everyday euphoria added up and filled you up and over the brim like foam from the tall Guinnesses your best friend always orders at the bar.
September creeps up on a person and so does joy.
September happens in between summer and fall, the comma in the calendar year.
Joy happens in between things you thought you ought to notice.
You’re trying to enjoy every moment of both.