Letters of Life

Enter September

Ever since I can remember, I have wished I was born in September.

September. . . the very word is a lyric. I mean, have you ever heard a song with the word August in it?

I was born in late late August, the middle month of summer, better late than never. But oh, September — September days are full of rain and grey gusts of wind, so different from the August days of high summer.

September is the way Neil Diamond sings the word, making September Morn sound like the two saddest words in the English language. And the way I’m made, sad and beautiful go together like, well, wind and rain.

That is why September will, to me, always surpass August as the more beautiful sister.


					
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