Sometimes we forget. We forget a lot, like house keys, newspapers we promised to collect, and that sprinkling of emptiness that calls in unexpectedly. An old acquaintance that you wouldn’t quite call your friend, but you know too well regardless. No amount of hot, sweaty afternoons and constant clear skies can change that for me.
I am someone who doesn’t function well without a normal routine. I become restless and agitated, then all at once I am tired, quiet and fed up. Locked in a jail cell with no windows, no light, no fellow inmates to ease the looming silence and regret. I am someone who feels most alive when leaves are changing to a burning, bright auburn, when mornings have a cold bite and dark evenings creep up quicker than before. When fairy lights are all the rage. When the Celts felt spirits looming by their bedsides.
Autumn is a far less lonely time. There’s new stationary, fresh faces and old friends. Hard work of orientations, new reading lists, new friends. Scarves, boots, random puppies on the street. There are plenty of reasons why I could be sad in September, and a thousand more reasons why I could be happy.
September is returning home, my real home with my ever extending family. Of all the things I could forget, this is not one of them.
It is amazing, the feeling of finally belonging, of fulfilling a purpose, living a life that once seemed like a far away dream. Life can be a lonely, fickle thing. But it can also be colourful, meaningful, shining like polished jewels. Sometimes we forget this too. But September always rolls around again and home will always be waiting.
There are plenty of monsters in the world, frightful creatures in suits who know not what it is to be afraid. But our happiness can show them real fear. Always be fighting the darkness with your own sparks of joy. The smallest of light changes the shadows in a room. Coming home to university, to my other family, that is my candle light in a late night power cut.
I never forget home.