Roots

September, we turn our faces into the sun, letting the light fall – for if it is to fall anywhere – let it be upon our skin where it can sink into our cells as stored energy for the winter.

It is about time we anchor down and pull up all we’ve nurtured. Let’s see how we’ve grown so we can see where we are still soft, not quite ripe, and spend time in the tenderness. What is one more day to endure? Another beyond that? It is the bitter turning sweet.

When timing tells us so, we return to the roots. We dig deeper, to the beginning, to understand how we came to be; and even then, we admire the miracle of who we are now – perhaps a pumpkin, or the apple of someone’s eye.

This is how I felt at the hair salon, looking at myself getting stylized in the mirror. The blonde highlights of summer, stripped and toned away, dead ends cut off entirely. Dark brown hair remained, and however long it had been, I was happy to have returned home to myself.