I’ve always had a hard time with September. When I was a kid September was back to school, and I had an odd relationship with school. I’ve always loved learning, but elementary was a weird time for me. When high school started September was bitter-sweet; coming back to my friends and classes at school, but also the end of the summer and free time with my books and my siblings. I’ve never been one to hate school altogether, but there was always something about it to hate.
Now, September is just another month, but it still seems different. The end of summer is imminent. I can smell the pumpkin spice and dried leaves in the air just around the corner, and I am both dreading it and excited for it. I am grasping on to the last straws of summer. I love summer. I love the heat, and the humidity, and the fun things that come with it. I love that I am the most smiley when the sun is out. But I am also excited for fall. I can’t wait for comfy sweaters and fall boots, crunchy leaves and a nice cool breeze, the aforementioned pumpkin flavoured everything.
Summer is ending, but I have no school to return to; no friends waiting to see me every day for the rest of the year. I have to rely on myself for my education and my social engagements.
For right now, though, it is still summer until I get back from Mexico. No exceptions.