second september.

i’m in a state of shock over the fact that it is late october. i was saying to my husband the other day that it feels like a second september. the days are warm but there’s that hint of fall in the light. it almost never rains. you rarely need a sweater but the fans and the shorts go into the closet until next summer. winter coats still seem like a far off place. october and the beginning of fall tends to be a time of reflection for me. historically october has been a transitional month in my life, one for breakups and moves, new romances and jobs. autumn is also a time that i tend to wrestle with old ghosts. i struggle to stay healthy and grounded and tend to isolate. but this year, not only is my body confused but perhaps my psychic rhythm is a bit disrupted. it does not feel like october. yet i have the sense that the hour is late, like the first day of a daylight savings when you feel it is early but the clock tells you otherwise.

my son was recently diagnosed with autistic spectrum disorder. it’s not something that i have written much about, i tend to keep this space light because writing here can feel like a respite. maybe i keep it light because i’m trying to attract lightness. also i feel the need for frivolity. because it can get heavy. i was thinking this morning as i laid in bed, not ready to get up but no longer able to sleep, that again i find myself in a sort of liminal period. i notice this often in my life. during a particularly lonely period of my late 20’s i was living across from dog eared books on valencia street in san francisco and while mulling the dusty rows arnold van gennep’s les rites des passage leapt off of a shelf and landed at my feet (this has happened somewhat frequently in my life, and the books i stumble over are always the perfect medicine for what ails me). i became consumed with his work and the work of victor turner. i felt myself in a liminal period, betwixt and between my previous life and one i had not yet began. this was something that i experienced again after having my son. recently i’ve felt more sure of myself, of my life as a mother and wife. but here we are, in between evaluations and new therapies, running to appointments and endless questions that have no correct answer. this morning i feel only that liminality, unsure of where this will take us.

i wanted to set a goal here. a prayer of sorts. as i stand on the threshold of all of this. i want, above all, to keep my son close to me. to be strong for him. to guide him. to listen to him and to hear him. to not lose sight of his needs. to not put him in a box. to remember to make him laugh. to continue to live for his laughter. and to let him be who he is, whether or not that fits any profile. this is my hope.

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