September Days I - September Babies
September babies are born from Christmas miracles and new years celebrations. If your parents weren’t together, most likely you were conceived during a drunken night when your mother and father strayed from their families to meet other young ones out on town. If you’re a September 20th baby like me (and many babies are), most likely the stars aligned on December 25th. December 24th in Sweden is for family celebrations, December 25th is for friends and strangers. That’s when they met, my tall dark father and my short blonde mother, in 1988. I’m not sure if they were together before that, if they knew each other. I believe they had common friends already, I’ve seen pictures of gangs gathered around old Volvos. Women with over-sized jeans jackets and men with leather vests. Anyway, it’s not my story to tell.
Every September I feel reborn. In a mellow, content kind of way. I didn’t come in to this world screaming through a bloody, torn vagina; I didn’t make that trip. Instead, after a 24 hr painful struggle suffered by my mother, I was carved out. As a baby I didn’t scream much in general. I preferred sleeping on chests and quietly observing the dynamics of the world around me. Not much has changed.
In 18 days I’ll turn 30. I made it, my youth is officially behind me. 30 doesn’t automatically mean proper adulthood, whatever adulthood means. But it does mean accepting what is, what was and what will follow. The lump of clay has taken some type of shape. What follows now is detail work and caring for the mass of space I ended up becoming. 30 for me doesn’t mean having all the answers, rather it means I now know what questions to ask.
September is a fusion of summer and autumn. The best bits of both all blended into one. You can still swim in outdoor pools and even the ocean will welcome you, if you want to meet it. There’s still warmth in the air and water, but the wind gives birth to baby winds and the core slowly cools down the lake. Leaves falls from the mother ship like romantic petals, slowly. Independently, not all at once. That’s October.
Here’s to embracing all of September and every last day of my twenties. Here’s to the Harvest Moon and Mercury’s forward movements and Autumnal Equinox and birthday celebrations. Bad days, good days, September days. I’ll try to write it all down.