The first time I connected with the rock band Green Day was way back in 2004. Sure, I had heard a few of their songs before that, but I had been too busy raising young children, playing pirates, and reading William Joyce picture books to listen to much new besides kid tunes.
But that day was different.
Earlier, my oldest had left to start junior high, and I had just dropped my youngest off for his first day of Kindergarden. It was one of those times when you realize everything changes after that day. I was happy for them, of course, and their new adventures, but for me? Well, I really didn’t know how I felt.
Then it happened.
“Wake Me Up When September Ends” came on the radio. Billie Joe Armstrong sang of pain, sadness of time passing, dread, loss of innocence, and wanting to go back to bed and hide beneath the covers. The tears came stronger than I ever imagined.
Oh, September, how you vex me so!
This year, four weeks of such promise withered a little each day, draining my spirit and crushing my verve, and resulted in unfulfilled expectations, disappointment, loss, and failure.
We all have those times, don’t we? Those days when nothing seems to go our way, no matter how hard we work. Well, this September has had thirty of them, and I’m ready to turn the calendar page in hopes of a better October.
September, I gladly bid you farewell. Plague me no more!