September reminds me of playing Scrabble with J. in my first apartment with the large living room windows open, wind threatening to lift the wooden letters. Him eight years my senior, laying next to me with a small tub of chocolate ice cream.

It also reminds me of the first time I met the author Ben Saenz, walking up to our new house, a box bigger than me in my arms and he asked so warmly who I was and if I was alone.

Yes.