September Joy

I have had moments of September joy, moments when the child leaped freely into being. I have, for moments, released the weighty side of aging for the levity of youth. This simple drawing tells me so.

Yet during this month I have been tested sorely, tempted to believe in frailty, to give in to "woe is me". A fall on Friday, skipping a step on the stairs to crash into the landing wall; to hit my head so hard that I spent time in the hospital ER, supposedly being checked out and reassured. 

Vulnerability... My vulnerability overwhelms me, shames me once again. Again in relation to the medical establishment... My age... My dependence on a system that has become so automatic in its treatment of the vulnerable human, that I might be tempted to risk death before subjecting myself again to the process of receiving "help".  

I am OK, I guess. My body is bruised and aching. Waves of dizziness descend. The right side of my head is tender to the touch. The heaviness of the experience has forced me to give in to rest. Sunday was one of those lovely days when yielding to the weight of my situation I had moments when my spirit rose. I did a little happy dance while lying on the couch remembering Paris.

Paris in September! Leif a freely moving youngster of fifty-six on the streets and avenues of Paris. That was in 2000, and I returned five times between 2001 and 2009 at different times of the year. Still, when I think of Paris, it is always in September. September Joy...