September races onto the scene like a bright red mini cooper doing 80 down a country road. We know it’s coming, we hear the whine of its engine long before we actually see it, and then BLAM, it flies into our lives with a sense of urgency that has us wide-eyed and white-knuckled. September stupefies us, leaving us confused and shivering in our flip flops as we watch it madly zip around us like a balloon losing air. On one hand it’s really cool – refreshing, entertaining, exhilarating, almost – and on the other hand the whine of the engine is so loud and so obnoxious, you find yourself screaming to the driver, “SHIFT! SHIFT ALREADY!” And then just when you feel you can’t take it any more, the unseen driver shifts into a higher gear, the engine seems to catch its breath and off it goes as quickly as it came. Because September is a comet of transition, it blazes on the scene and rips the bandaid off quickly, giving us no time to feel what’s actually happening. And as we hear the distant sounds of the mini cooper fade around the bend, we gradually come out of our stupor and ask, “what just happened?”
