Dear October

You quietly arrived, walking through my open doors and settling on my couch like you were meant to be there. Here. And who knows, it could be true. Maybe you are. Maybe we’ll go on adventures. We can grab our buckets and shovels, like wide-eyed kids at a sandbox, and dig deeper. Maybe we can discover ourselves and more. We can make fortresses and sandcastles too. Build ourselves higher and higher until we can reach for the sky and spell out reminders of who we are. Who I am. We can play make-believe on top of monkey bars until we have worn out all the illusions and fairy tales. Until we fall down and our knees are scratched from reality. We can heal together. We can laugh together when we realize that the other kids are watching us make a fool of ourselves. But that’s okay, isn’t it? At least we can say we tried. We dug and built and played and got bruised. We can scream at the sky until our voices are heard. We can learn how to become.