September Rain

This month began with a solo dance party in the middle of the Safeway cereal aisle because Owl City came on the radio.

I sat on a roof with my knees pulled up to my chest; it was too chilly for just a T-shirt but too warm for a jacket. There was a leaf sitting next to my foot so I picked it up and dropped it off the edge, watching it flutter down to the concrete below where someone was learning to skateboard. They fell off, laughed at themselves, and tried again. It reminded me that despite dropping sarcastic misanthropic comments at every opportunity, I'm actually rather enamored with humanity.

The launch of my second novel was a painstaking process, half of which happened alone in a darkened computer lab and the other half on the third floor, watching lightning streak across the sky. I ran down the sidewalk to get back home, smacking my Converse high-tops through puddles, singing Jack's Mannequin lyrics under my breath. 

With a beanie on in the morning but quickly coming off in the afternoon, I sat in a jury assembly room and read Sarah Dessen's "Saint Anything," wishing I'd brought snacks and worn something other than skinny jeans. There were giant windows that looked out over the building tops, and I leaned against them with my breath against the glass, trying to spot my car in the parking lot. It turns out that skittish young reporters don't make very effective jurors. 

Five quarters clinked into a parking meter, and I snapped my camera at every single bench and mural and flower and storefront. I spent the better part of an hour literally crying over the tattered covers lining the walls of a used bookstore, and you bet I walked out with one of them tucked under my arm. How in love I am with this town!

On the last day of September, I sat in the bleachers with my 2005 Fuji, on assignment and freezing my ass off. I took off my water-resistant band jacket and draped it over my head, using it as a tent to shield the camera as I hesitantly poked the lens out from under its hiding place and wiped the rain from the glass. They evacuated the stadium because of the lightning, and I found myself standing alone under one of the entrances, watching the rain pour down and gather in puddles at my feet. I pondered the past and this place and wondered if I'll ever tell the only story I can't bring myself to write.