SEPTEMBER SIREN

by Deborah Elliott-Upton

The morrow was a bright September morn;
The earth was beautiful as if new born;
There was that nameless splendor everywhere
That wild exhileration in the air.

— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

September is the ninth month, begins the last quarter of the year, and is a true end of carefree summer living. It means back to work, school and a natural slowing down after a harvest.

September has always been a love/hate thing with me. I enjoy the temperature turning down a notch. I love the whole back-to-school routine and clean, fresh notebook pages ready to be filled with notes and compositions. I am ready to learn something new.

It’s the end of summer I don’t like. Sure, the heat index isn’t always pleasant, but that’s combated by an extra dip in the pool. The longer days meant more time to enjoy the blooming flowers and home-grown tomatoes.

Summer has never kept me from the keyboard, but September has always been more productive. September lures me with an intoxicating bait, wooing me with so many ideas it seems I must write them down immediately or lose them forever. There is an urgency to write faster. My mind reels with the possibilities before years’ end.

While visiting my sister, I found myself unable to sleep in the quiet household where there is no TV in bedrooms. I didn’t want to wake anyone, but I knew I needed something to entertain myself for a few minutes. Sleeping in my niece’s room while she was away teaching at a summer camp, I found a Seventeen magazine. I hadn’t read an issue in years and doubted I’d find anything of interest. I pawed through the makeup and fashion spreads and how-to articles geared to their readership. Obviously, I had not been in touch with this generation past their adoration of the Twilight books/movies/posters. I was pleased to discover the magazine had sponsored a short fiction contest and lucky for me, announced the winner and printed her story in the issue. The 2009 sinner was Kerry Reardon of Columbus, Ohio.

One of the first things I noticed was the inclusion of her age in the announcement. I wish I’d already found my writer’s voice by the age of 21 like Kerry.

The title of the story was “jewels & daughters” (not capitalized and using an ampersand instead of the word made me wonder if doing so is indicative of this generation’s preferences or just this story.)

The story could have happened anytime to any girl whose dad had abandoned her, whether as a by-product of divorce or merely his lack of interest in fatherhood. The universality of the story amazed me. The jaws of the story had clamped down like a pit bull and wouldn’t let go. When I finished the story, I thought Wow! Then, I read it again.

Kerry Reardon of Columbus, Ohio, you have a gift. Thank you for sharing it and I hope you continue to do so in many publications in the future.

Finding this story was a jewel I carry like a talisman into the new season. My creed: to be open to new adventures in reading, more courageous in my own writing and willing to seek new voices in publications I overlooked in the past.

Shh! Hear that? September’s siren is calling. I am ready to pay attention to what she’s saying.