All of a sudden, it seems to have started raining.
And it looks cold, and the bare branches of the swaying trees and the way the rain on the windows sits over the whitewashed sky makes me think of ice and winter. It makes me anxious for Spring and Summer and warmer, wetter times of the year than just now. It makes me want brief summer showers and long days with fiery sunsets and glowing skin and springy, prickly grass. It makes me want Of Montreal and something to do. Or nothing to do. Nothing to do, therefore doing something instead, rather. If that can even happen. It makes me want dirty, broken Converses, the fading color of red that they were last July, when I returned from a place I could easily dub home that was full of fountains and long walks and people that I truly loved. That was a place I found joy. Rapture. Ecstasy, one might call it. I was alive. I was alive and well and I didn’t want those times to end. But, they did, as all things do, and I tried my best not to whine or cry about it. Although I am not sure that I ever resorted to tears over the matter, I have certainly faced my fair bit of nostalgia over the tall trees and taller brick buildings of Sewanee. Last summer was a time that shall not be forgotten, nor shall it be duplicated. It was a time that changed me. There is much I cannot experience without making that heart-swelling connection to then. Perhaps I just long for more time. I cannot figure out who this “me” is. My useless prattle is certainly not the wisest decision if I wish to find such things out, though. I think for now, I’ll just patiently watch the rain.
Mar 21, 2010 AT 4:04PM · 0 notes