something(s) like September

By third year Teresa Lu

something like bus rides with a touch of sonder

people constantly

coming and going

like the first time i made my favorite childhood meal

without calling my mother first

somehow that felt so much more like september

so much more like a beginning and an ending and an in-between

all at once

like resisting the passage of time

to dive into the liminality of life

knowing that staying

is also losing

lingering is losing

so we linger sparingly

in that in-between

that intersection of knowing that life is fleeting but this moment isn’t

until we let it pass

inevitably

but for that brief moment

i am in the kitchen with my mother

i am ten years old and eating my favorite dinner with her

she leaves to do the dishes

leaving behind a scent of home

sunlight streams through the window and gathers in inbetweens

i am probing the shadow of a leaf on the table with my index finger

with a sense of dread and wonder and nostalgia for a moment that has not yet passed

i am in the kitchen cooking

the window is open and the weather is nice

laughter spills out onto dappled orange leaves

there are no shadows here

something(s) like september