Oh ho! Fall is here!

What a Fall it will be. As previously mentioned, it is my last semester before I get my grubby little hands on that bachelor’s that I have been chasing for years. I also got my car fixed, and my wife’s car is in the shop. It has become a running joke in my house that my old car with a ton of miles is far and away more reliable than our newer one. Ol’ Reliable, baby. Let’s go.

I am excited to go on adventures. I will be bringing my dog, Boo, as she is attached to my hip and well-behaved. Good job, Booberry! I know my wife is cooking up a new camera purchase for me at some point, so Boo and I are going to trek across Western Massachusetts to take pictures and experience some things.

Even though I love local adventures, I am getting exceptionally itchy feet. I haven’t gone West in a while, and I would love to throw Boo in the ride, grab a tent, and camp my way to Monument Valley and back. Hot tip: Once you are west of the Mississippi River, there is abundant public land. That also means free camping while you travel. My wife’s business is exploding, and I don’t have a pot to piss in, so this idea is little more than a fading dream. 

I have John Denver on, and these deep cuts are going hard AF. He made so much interesting music, and I had no idea. 

Back to the season. The angle of this September sun hits. I love the weather, and the shadows this time of year are beautiful. Something about the Fall fills me with comfort and warmth. My wife and I have been together for eleven years this October, and married for five.

Even with all of these positive vibes, I have been depressed. I have spent the last decade-plus learning how to live with, manage, and mitigate the negative effects of this. Even so, when depression shows up to give me a hug, I fall in love all over again. I will say, some of my rawest and, in my opinion, best writing has come out of me when I am in the darkness. It still sucks, though.

To help me out, I look to getting lost in my plants. I have pruning, trimming, and winter prep to do all across my yard. Indoors, I am trying to run real ivy across my faux ceiling beams and caring for my wife’s orchid. I am so impressed with myself when I look at it. I have been told these last few years that, much like my mom, I have a green thumb.

Playing in the dirt and growing various things makes me feel closer to her. My mom had a massive veggie garden, flowerbeds everywhere, and a living room full of plants, as any good plant lady should.

Are “plant ladies” a thing anymore? When I was a kid, we had a few hardcore plant people in our family, and “plant lady” was what we called this phenomenon.

The thing they don’t tell you about losing loved ones is that over time memories fade. My mom died in the ’90s, so there are barely any photos or videos due to technological constraints. I am all that’s left to carry her memory. This is why it is scary to realize that I have forgotten her voice, her mannerisms, and even her face. 

Playing in the dirt is all I have.

I have been having a recurring nightmare for a while now. In this dream, my mom is alive. For some reason, she tries to avoid me once I discover that she isn’t dead. She ignores phone calls, and if I see her in person, she acts as if I am not there. That seems to be when I can create her face in my mind. 

Lucky me.

Anyway, I have a ton of schoolwork to do, and instead I am staring out of the window and writing nonsense.

Do drugs, give hugs

JTC