SEPTEMBER SONG

When I was much younger, I remember my grandparents dancing in the living room to their favorite ballads. They would sip a glass of sherry and talk about “the good old days”. There was one song that always made them feel melancholy. They’d sit side by side near the fireplace just listening to the song and holding each other close:

“When the autumn weather turns the leaves to flame

One hasn’t got time for the waiting game”

I couldn’t understand why a song about time and weather would make my grandparents sad. To kids, time meant nothing; if someone was 25 years old, they were practically ancient! The concept of aging was nonexistent.

Blink once and you’re suddenly in high school. Then before you know it, you’re married with kids of your own. Funny how time just has a way of creeping up on you. One minute you’re sledding down a giant snow-covered hill and the next you’re taking your own kids sledding down that same hill.

Your golden-haired little Katie has become a teenage girl and you hear yourself saying the exact same things your parents said to you. And now your parents are the ones sitting by the fireplace listening to September Song.

One morning you wake up and it’s Katie’s wedding day. Your wife says how dashing you look, still so handsome in your tuxedo and you tell her she’s radiant, always the prettiest girl in the room. And in each other’s eyes it’s true; you haven’t changed a bit since your own wedding day.

You remember the call from your parents in Florida: “We’re heartbroken, dear, but we’re just not up to making the trip for Katie’s wedding. Lord knows, we hate to disappoint but we’ll be there in spirit.”

You understand; they’re 80-something and entitled to take it easy. Still you feel very sad.

What a beautiful bride Katie was! Doesn’t her wedding photo look lovely on the mantle? Now it’s just the two of you in that old empty house. Once upon a time the house was filled with your childhood laughter. But wait — it’s suddenly not so empty and quiet anymore. Where’s all that noise coming from? And you take a peek around the corner; there are your teenage grandkids playing video games.

“C’mon, kids!” Katie calls out. “Dad’s packed the car; it’s time to go. Say goodbye to Grams and Gramps.” And she gives you both a hug, promising to call soon.

It seems like only yesterday but you realize eight years have gone by since you moved to Florida. You think about playing golf but your rotator cuff has been hurting a lot lately and your wife isn’t quite ready to hit the links so soon after her hip replacement. Well, let’s not think about that now. There will be plenty of days for golf. So you pour another cup of coffee and work on a crossword puzzle while your wife knits a blanket for Katie’s grand-baby — your very first great-grandchild.

Now in the evenings you sip sherry in the living room. “There’s nothing good on tv these days. Why don’t we listen to some music? Well, look what I found!” and you blow the dust off an old forgotten record laying on the shelf.

“What memories that song brings back!” And you sit holding hands, gazing at faded family photos on the mantle, listening to Sinatra:

“Oh, it’s a long, long while from May to December

But the days grow short when you reach September”

And you kiss your wife gently on the forehead.