Friday, November 11
So I'm here at home, alone for a few more hours. It's overcast, but unseasonably warm. Last week they came and cleaned up leaves, but the trees weren't quite finished and now there are just as many leaves today as there were last Friday. A long time ago I made a playlist with songs I thought suited November. Every song on the list wallowed in heartbreak; lost loves, dead friends, the lament of the weather. November, for no particular reason, is a sadder month. Maybe it's because the holidays loom just far enough into the future and the days darken earlier. But whatever sadness is held in November isn't personal; I don't have any gut-wrenching remorse tied up in the eleventh month. Maybe it's irrational; maybe it's just part of the normal psychological cycle. All this to say that on this November afternoon, I think about any other similar afternoon ten or more years ago when I would have poked into the Bookshelf to see who was there. I would have had just enough time to see the banter, maybe trade some IMs. I'm missing you all, today. That's all.
Posted by Sonya at 4:00 PM