September---the rhythmic rasping of countless cicadas swells across the earlier evening twilight

[Atticus]

and it seems that by just closing my eyes I can instantly recall the smells of brand new blue jeans, high-top Keds, white library paste and that pink sweeping compound that kept the grade school floors spic 'n span.

Those memories still reach me across the 65-plus years that have passed since they were inscribed upon my brain. All of the adults who were a part of that time are dead. Many of my classmates are.

But, just as cicada song lets me smell those smells, it also permits me to once again see those faces as they were then and I realize that I missed my chance to tell them---that I loved them one and all.

I just did not realize it then.

I'm trying to do better now.

[AndyS]

1. Anyone have a tissue . . .

[OAITW r.2.0]

2. You write poetry my friend.

Had a great telcon with a friend who goes waaaaay back with me....55 years. We talked about our moms and we both had stories to tell each other.

On edit....my mom passed 24 years tomorrow. She had ALS......I was building my home to replace the one that burned down.....2-1/2 hours away. Stressful times. Remember her like it was yesterday, when she was in great health

[CaliforniaPeggy]

3. You have the heart of a poet, my dear Atticus...

This is so lovely, such a wonderful tribute to September and all the sights and smells of your life 65-plus years.

So wonderful!

Keep writing...