Dear September, Your turn in the calendar year always signaled a psychic turn, a change in the light, new energy after the dog days of summer. Regardless of the official start of classes, September meant back-to-school clothes, lumbering yellow buses, a clean slate. It never mattered that I wasn’t in school any longer—as soon as you appeared, I found myself in fresh-notebook state of mind. I dreamed of brave new projects, old cashmere sweaters, brisk walks instead of sweaty trudges through molasses-thick air. This year, though, masks are the new uniforms, classes are in the ether/or, and social distancing has outlined all the lonely spaces between us. The lessons we learn this year might be harder, but extra credit for everyone who signs up for hope. XOXO Nikki
