freedom is the freedom to choose whose slave you want to be.

Friday, September 03, 2010

How strange is this?

(I would think, I can even drive on the interstate now. I remember to roll or not roll the Rs according to the situation most of the time. I can buy things online without having to try on a million different items of clothing because I know my sizes. I convert units quicker and think in quarts and gallons and miles and pounds. I can ask people at school to donate money for Pakistan without embarrassment or apology. I don't even have the number of daysmonthsyears I have been here on the tip of my tongue anymore. I would think, in my American-think I got this.)

But for the past few days, I have woken up every morning expecting to feel a little chilly when I get out of bed.

I knew August was ending but it hadn't registered that today was the 2nd of September until I looked at the calendar. My weeks are constructed according to day, not date. I suppose I'm still in the haze of dateless, dayless, timeless summer.

My body hunched of its own accord to block out the cold, relaxing little by little when it realized it wasn't. I walked around the house, my brain prepared for a slight difference in the temperature in the air between my clothes and my body, the air that enters my nose as I breathe.

It's 88 - or 31 - degrees outside (and it will be for another three months) but in my head it's autumn. Only because my body insists that according the rotation of seasons that it is used to, expects, wants, demands, it's time.

Oh, September.


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