Hello, October

It's October. Really it's here. Much to my disbelief and shock.
I can't believe what a summer it has been and that we've been recovering, trying to survive.

Nonetheless, it's October. Fall is officially here as of September 22nd and I have been loving it. Autumn is my favorite season of the year and I usually can't have the fall long enough. The leaves changing color, the lattes are the part everyone likes about Autumn. I like the ability to calm down, get together and the inspiring mood it puts me into write. The ability to appreciate and create cozy corners in the house and in my heart to appreciate the people who are in it and make lasting memories with awesome people whether it is apple picking, pumpkin carving or Halloween parties.

I am at a great open critique group which I enjoy and have come to make some friends. Having writer friends was the best decision I could have made. I wonder why I waited so long to foster these relationships? I am back to taking classes, even if they are online and free ones. I am back to reading and writing at a steady pace. I am trying to make these more regular once again. I will be taking a publishing course at the Madison College and will be attending several U.W. Mini Courses. I am excited for October. So much change, so much positivity that I am hoping that things will become great habits and they will continue into the winter, holding me fast and tight where I am, bound and committed to my work.

I also having to watch over two children, aged 4 and 8 have done wonders both for my imagination and the feelings of responsibility. I also pack more for my day and try to be better for myself.

Hello October. I am glad you're here.

Missing: Long Walks

I'm missing the rainy seasons of October where I took long walks in the streets between the Wingra Lake and the Zoo, Monroe street and the Monroe Library I ended up, and late at night, found all these mystic signs I interpreted that I was going to get better, I was healing and that regardless of my age, a good future was waiting for me. The nights where I could not get home soon enough from the day, night and go out to my wilderness to come face myself, reality, failures and acceptance of the miserably fallen self that had isolated myself so much that the only voices I heard of mine own, inside my own head. The breeze by the lake, the bicycle bells walking up and down the slight hill and the wooded areas most avoid, I took sanctuary in their bays, coves and darkness.