Up and at 'em, Rise and Shine!
September 1, 2012... Saturday, Labor Day weekend.
Funny how certain seasons beg us to reflect on our lives in different ways. After all these years September still pulls me towards memories of school when the last lazy days of summer cross over to autumn with a different routine.
I remember the pear tree out front of our home in Earlington. They're ripe and begin to fall. The yellow jackets love them and the air is abuzz while they harvest the sweet succulent fruit before winters long sleep. Mom will pickle some yellow and green for Thanksgiving and Christmas, and the basement cellar smells wonderful, full of Grandpa’s garden bounty.
Soon the leaves will turn and the mornings chill with fog. The warm sunny afternoons will fade to gray and life will turn indoors. Now deep in homework, with a math equation, and writing about countries far far away. I'll read histories of war and freedom, and manifest destiny. I'll practice my French Horn daily to meet the first chair challenge, and I'll play my guitar, with a head full of boy dreams, a rock n roll star.
I'll have a new haircut, clothes and shoes, and we’ll try Mrs. Henry’s patience, on the bus to school. Mrs. Krall will lose her demeanor, when class attention strays, and Coach Huckle and Young will smile and laugh, as they goad us into one more lap around the field.
And Mr. Rosenquist will keep a hopeful patience, as he raises his baton again first day. One hardly recognizes Souza, through the blurting brass, the squeaky winds, and those fledgling whacks on drums.
There was no digital clock nor smartphone to wake us. We had Dad before dawn, in Sergeant's voice,
“Up and at ‘em, Rise and Shine!”
Comments(17)