I couldn’t write this on Sunday, or the day before, or the day after. I couldn’t write on Sunday, because there was, I felt, nothing to be said, it was a time to reflect.

Sunday was a very emotional day for me, as it was for many. I worried if something was to happen again, how would I get home? I pray for the safety of my friends and family every day. I had family at the Towers that day, as well as in Washington and we were blessed to have not lost any one.

The passing of Sunday has not left me. My heart at times has still felt heavy with emotion for all that has happened. I know I am not alone, as my Mom and I were speaking about it yesterday.

Mr. Michie and I watched the news coverage from the States that day as well as the ceremony held in London. It was just too much, so we decided to go for a walk. The fresh air hit our faces and the gentle falling rain, lightly misted our hair and eyelashes as we headed down our chosen path.

We walked and talked and as we did this, we reflected on what we remembered from that day. I was at College and thought that it was unusual as I was heading to my second morning class of the day that the campus was a bit sparse of population.

As I walked in to my printmaking class everyone was huddled around a radio and that is how we learned of what was happening. Without having the visuals of it, my imagination was running wild as I heard all the noises from the day.

Living in such a media based society, it was odd to not be watching this in front of a TV. I could only hear what was happening. That was at times worse than seeing it on TV, it gave me the slightest taste of what my Grandmother must have felt as she listened to the news during the Second World War, her imagination was all she had to “see” the coverage they were reporting as my Grandpa fought overseas.

My Art teacher asked us not to leave, but, to stay and create a piece through our emotions. I excused myself when I could, to try and call home, the line at the payphone was long. But, as the caller finished and walked back down the line, it was like a meet and greet, everyone asked if they were okay, if their family and friends were okay? There were hugs and tears.

I walked in to work that afternoon and again, the same thing. We were all hugging each other, everyone checking on everyone else. As, I walked home, students on campus, who I had never even seen before were doing the same thing, everyone was reaching out.

That is what will stand out in my mind the most; is the generosity of spirit from that day. In the darkest hour, one of the brightest of human acts came through: KINDNESS. We all reached out to let others know we were there and we carried that with us in the days that were to come.

September days are coming to a close and fall will definitely be more “officially” on its way. Pumpkin season is upon us and soon it will be Halloween!

I had the windows opened yesterday and when I went to close them in the evening I could smell the first outdoor scent of a fire. It hung in the crisp air and held all the promise of Autumn. I love that smell.

When I was little, I can remember going to visit my grandparents (I was very blessed as I lived near both sets and got to see them often), on the way, there is a dip in the road and you are in a miniature valley. On the hill above stood an old farmhouse, the air would be chilly but still warm in the sun and on Sundays, when you drove past, the smell of burning leaves intertwined with the scent of a ham baking for their dinner, hung in the afternoon air. I love that smell. The air in your nostrils was just permeated with the sweet aroma of ham against the rough almost throat burning taste of leaves in the air and it was intoxicating.

It made me think of a John Updike poem I like:

John Updike – September

Goodbye September.

(Fall Wreath Image from Martha Stewart)