September. 

  It’s the chill in the air in the morning. Or maybe the orange haze sunsets over the hills out back. The times I sit and look out of the window in the evening and am surprised by the darkness. 

It’s the slip into routine, still new enough to be enjoyed. It’s the walk to and from nursery with the boys. Chasing shadows. Commenting on the world. Checking if the blackberry bush holds new delights today. 

It’s the watching of the eldest walking a new rhythm in the world. It’s hugs and I love yous as I say goodbye. It’s a warm youngest boy rocked in my arms, snuggling close for sleep. 

It’s glistening spiders webs. Droplets gleaming on grass. A still hot sun cooling all too fast in the evening. It’s lazy taking forever to get there walks to the park. Staring at grasshoppers, searching for more and more blackberries on the way. It’s the last of the sun cream slathered on. 

It’s singing and dancing the crazy hour grumps away. It’s cooking one handed with Mr Overtired and Hungry on the hip. It’s food on the table. It’s slow patient voices helping son1 through the exhaustion that overwhelms him right now. 

It’s early mornings and long nights with a restless child, an aching body by the end of the week. It’s tears and hugs and reassurances as husbandface goes to work again. It’s tea and porridge and naps and showers washing the night away. It’s lion cub bundles from small affectionate boys. 

It’s longing for Saturday pancakes and Sunday eggs, it’s staring exhausted at each other at the end of long days. It’s trying to love each other’s worlds. It’s pushing on through. It’s goodnight kisses and deep weary sleep. 

It’s September. 

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