On the evening of Thursday the first of August 2002, I went out on a second date with a young man. The evening ended in my apartment, and I could say that the date was long and had just one small intermission to go to work on Friday noon.
That Sunday morning, still in the company of that same young man and so used to his clean head and blue eyes that I was startled when the mirror gave me a full haired head and black eyes, I seriously thought that the weekend would never end. Like it was impossible, in spite of logic and experience that weekends, no matter how good, always come to an end.
While I have proof that the first weekend of August 2002 effectively ended, something of it didn't end. The young man stayed and still does, his clean head and blue eyes the first thing my eyes see every morning when I wake up, always the last thing my heart kisses goodnight.
September 2010 has found me with that feeling of everlasting time. My newborn daughter, as old as the month itself, is both a novelty in the house and a statement as if she had always been there... first as an absence, now as a presence.
I know for sure, something of September 2010 will always stay with me.