September rolls in, and she's different this year. She usually wears a new plaid skirt to start the school year, her hair in plaits. This year I see her: she is winded, emotions falling out of her pockets and sweat trickling from her eyes. September had always been the Greatest Month for me: my birthday followed by my wedding anniversary, with fall adding rust-tones to the light. There has also almost always been an internal shift for me: time to get to work. Even if I have been bustling all year to further my art, the fall is when I feel Discipline rapping on my window. There was, of course, a horrible shift last year, and I truly feel that I lost about six months of consciousness. Something in me, as in many of us, fell asleep last September and mine didn't awaken until very recently. And so I step into this month cautious, sad, and very aware of the slipperiness of time. I have my pencils sharpened, my books covered. I'm here now to put back a bit of what was taken away.