It’s different out there today. It’s only 24 hours, but the change is tangible. The sun is still warm to the skin. The grass could use a trim, but some line has been crossed. It’s not the same.
I would offer for your consideration that September 1 is one of the most significant days of the year.
We all have various important days of the year. A mixture of the ordained traditional and personal moments of note that may have become ceremonious.
As an illustrative counterpoint, much is made of New Year's Day. Fireworks, libations and glorious lists of how one is going to get their shit together starting that day.
For me, and I daresay many others, it’s a fairly anti-climatic day. I almost feel sorry for January 1. The poor thing has been overhyped and oversold. It’s like waiting for an echo that never comes back. The grand accomplishment seems to be feeling all chuffed about yourself when you get the year correct when you date something.
September does not possess the wonderful advantage that its spoiled kin of the previous few months gleefully employ of “hey it’s summer - go for it.” An all-encompassing justification of great seduction.
There is a perceptible shift in humanity the morning after August 31. Whether it be the imminent
excitement of seeing your buddies back at school, or, if you’re lucky, your buddies at work. Eating a popsicle, the height of fashion mere days ago, now just makes you look somewhat questionable.
Just the same, September is a champion. It has to take the stage after the fanfare and panoply of triumph that August is gifted with. A seemingly insurmountable task.
Though given a few days, its charms become apparent while taking its place on the podium with grace and style.
September is like a pet that you were adamant against getting. But your family, cads that they are, conspired and plotted to ignore and overrule you.
Soon enough your new buddy is up on the couch, with its head in your lap. As you scratch its ears, you wonder with idle amusement what everybody else was complaining about.