Before Fall, After a Fall

And some new poems

Happy September, friends!

I went for a romp on my paddleboard yesterday, the lake already notably colder than it was a few weeks ago, thinking it could be one of my last paddles of the season. I’ve grown more confident on my board despite the choppy waves orchestrated by so much boat traffic. Whenever I stand up and feel wobbly, I remind myself that I know how to fall.

Except yesterday, when I got lost in my head as a rogue wave hit me sideways and I flew off my board backwards, paddle in hand. I’d been paddling for over an hour by that point and had just been thinking about how hot it was, and that my skin must be burning. Since I am not graceful about hauling myself back onto my board, I made a lemons-to-lemonade decision to swim behind my board and cool off for a while before turning in closer to shore, where it would be easier to get back on. This seemed like a fine plan; however, to those watching me from their beach chairs on shore, I appeared to be drowning.

Once I swam in and my feet hit the jagged rocks, I stood there for a moment and noticed a man walking down the beach towards me. I thought he was going to yell at me for swimming in, since all the docks around me were privately owned.

“My daughter was watching you struggle back there and we just wanted to see if you were all right?” he asked.

“Oh yeah, I’m fine,” I said, and proceeded to explain that, while I had indeed fallen off of my board, I had chosen to swim. I was not struggling. I did not disclose that I had made the decision to swim in hopes of avoiding further embarrassment.

The man seemed either not to hear me or believe me, and came closer. He asked if I wanted to come and rest in the shade.

I told him again that I was all right, and he asked again if I really was. It went on like this for a few more rounds, until I finally thanked him, hopped on my board, and paddled away. Was I really okay? When someone asks you the question in rapid-fire succession, you begin to wonder.

It’s September and the truth is that I am okay, but I am also waiting for the mosquitos to die. I am okay, but it’s supposed to be a warm month, which means fall is not as near as I’d like it to be. I am okay, but the world is still blazing with injustices and it’s the season of wasps losing their minds and I am really feeling the weight of this summer and every summer before it. Still, while I wait for the relief of cooler weather, I’ve noticed that the leaves of some trees are already changing. Tomorrow, so many kids will pick out new outfits to wear for their first day back to school. Fall is coming—and I trimmed the dead ends from my hair this afternoon like an offering.

I also recently finished a poetry challenge with a friend and thought I would share a few of the poems that came of it. I’ve never shared new work on this platform before, and I’m undecided on how I feel about it. In any case, here they are. Many of them, unsurprisingly, are poems about yearning for fall.

Hoping September is good to you,