Sometimes In September

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A note from the Author about Sometimes in September: 

Sometimes in September
When the leaves are turning color
The wind blows softly through the branches
Like the memories of yesterday

Sometimes in September
By the stream in the woods
The water trickles through the rocks
Like yesterday’s wishes tossed away

Sometimes in September
The winds carry their secrets
Away to far off lands
Like the dreams of tomorrow

And sometimes, in September
In the streambed near the trees
The memories of another time
Leave a passage to a dream

 

Excerpt from Sometimes in September: Don’t go near the ruins, boy. But why not, Daddy? There are restless things there, David. David Chesney swerved to avoid hitting the startled deer standing in the road. Distractions were dangerous on these winding mountain roads…especially distractions of childhood memories better left buried. Finally—he was coming home. Never mind the thirteen places he’d lived since moving from here when he was ten. Nor the myriad of jobs he’d held doing anything and everything. He was a wanderer and what some people called a Jack of all Trades. But there had always been only one place he’d called home: the California Gold Country. Time didn’t matter, and the people and places in between were superfluous. Gripping the steering wheel in tense anticipation, he turned down the road to his childhood home. The autumn breeze blew in through his open window, ruffling his hair. It’s smaller. The trees still towered over the rutted dirt road, and navigating around the ever-present potholes took David’s full attention. He slowed, pulling over to park in front of a rusted gate with an equally rusty lock. It creaked open in jerks and starts, as if welcoming him home rather reluctantly. Were the ruins still there? The thought had recurred frequently during the settling of his grandfather’s estate. He’d recently inherited the house his family had once shared with Grandpa Chesney…when times were bad and jobs were scarce. He’d been ten. While they’d gone their separate ways when David’s parents were in better financial shape, Grandpa’s house still had that special feeling of home that the many moves since had lacked. He wondered if she was still waiting for him; the transparent lady with the sad eyes who’d asked him to help her. But what could a ten-year old boy do? Especially since he was trespassing on the old ruins he’d been repeatedly warned away from. There are restless things there, David.