A bougainvillea over the wall

Archive: Here's to September

Dear Reader,

I wanted to share a postcard from last September about running into life’s metaphorical walls. It’s the kind of writing that flows- it almost writes itself- and emerges as a way to alchemize life experiences. It’s part yearning and part meaning-making, and I hope it adds something beautiful to your day.

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There is a wall running through one area of my life. I know this now. But for many years, I didn’t know it stood in front of me. Silent. Invisible. Solid. When you don’t know something is in your way, you might stand next to it and share oblivious space like two strangers on the daily train ride into the city.

I’ve tried speaking to it, but it won’t tell me anything, not even to reassure me that it’s there. (I’ve slammed into it a few times, so I know I am not dreaming of walls where there aren’t any.) I don’t know who built it. I don’t know its size. I don’t know who it is keeping in. Or what it’s keeping out.

I’ve taken to sitting by it with my four ‘o’clock cup of tea. I lean back against the wall, I drink some tea (hot chai, spiced with ginger and black pepper, and with a little honey), and I hum a tune. Sometimes, I tell the wall my stories even as I wonder if it knows them already.

This September, something new has arrived. 

September is that kind of month. It bears responsibility. Every year, it cleans up the frolic and abandon of summer and gently reminds the sun of its southern journey. It sends kids back to school. September is disciplined, diligent, and careful. Sometimes, August will tease September not to be so critical. Of self. Of others. 

September seems to have taken the advice. September is changeable, and a harbinger of healing and hibernation.

Yesterday, as I settled myself against the wall and prepared to launch into another retelling of my favorite story, something tickled the top of my head. I looked up, and looking back at me over the invisible wall were a few bougainvillea branches. One of them, the more audacious of the lot, dangled overhead, bright pink flowers at the ready.

I sat back against the wall, a smile on my face. September has come bearing gifts. 

Whatever walls you’re sitting against, I hope you spot the bougainvillea making its way to you.

And if you have any wall stories, I’d love to hear them.

Best,

Priya

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