And the rains came.
According to the latest weather report, we can expect rain every day next week except Monday. And since Monday happens to be the first day of October, that works out fine for me.
Is it really here – my favorite month? Is it time, once again, to enjoy thirty-one days of splendid color, clear blue, cloudless skies and cool sunny afternoons? Time for those familiar stirrings inside?
I’ve had those stirrings in October since I was very young. I once attempted to describe them to my grandmother and got back an interesting explanation.
“Wanderlust!” she said, in a rather disgruntled tone.
Bear in mind, I was only about eight to 10 years old.
“What’s wunderlust?” I ask.
“Itchy feet,” she said. “It’s what your great-grandpa Morgan had. You don’t want to give in to it. My daddy went to the store for Mama one October day and never came back! I was only six and my brother, Dan, was three.”
“Where’d Grandpa Morgan go?”
“Who knows? We haven’t seen nor heard from him since. He was a dreamer, like you. Sat around daydreamin’ all the time, talkin’ about seeing the world. Sure couldn’t get no work outta him! Mama was better off without him, if you ask me.”
“What about Grandpa Hester?” I asked her.
“Well, he’s better than nothin’, I guess. Married Mama and helped her raise us kids, he did, but she never got over John Morgan. When his name’s mentioned, her eyes soften like those of an old beer drinker and she tries to hide the smile that turns up the corners of her mouth.”
“Wonder what happened to him?” I persisted.
“Just never you mind, child! If he wanted to be here with Mama and his kids, that’s where he’d be. He was no good and you don’t want to be like him. When you feel those so-called stirrings you talk about, you just get them right outta your head and get busy. There’s nuthin’ like work to make you feel better.You hear me?”
“Now, go on outside and find something to do. I’ve got to get back to work.”
My stirrings were never mentioned again and I’m sure my grandmother thought she’d nipped that problem in the bud, but I’ve always had them. And it’s not about seeing the world. Truth is, I don’t even like to travel, and I’ve seen enough of the world to satisfy that yearning, if there ever was one. Still, it’s something that happens only in October and nobody seems to understand it, so, although I don’t agree with my grandmother’s assessment, I just “go with it.” It’s easier that way.
Once, a few years ago, at the beginning of October, I told a friend I had stirrings inside and she replied, “Are you pregnant?”
I giggled as the words of my grandmother spilled out: “No, it’s wanderlust.”
We both laughed and it was over for her. But not for me.
Never for me!