Winter has its moments
Coffee-flavored gelato (Gelato! as the sign says) at the cafe that I pass by twice everyday. The hot chocolate and letters written to the sounds of Dawn Landes, Hem, and Autumn Defense. The laundry was done until I went and perspired again. I sat, quietly on a bench, and tried so hard not to wait. It always feels like I'm waiting, but I don't want to always be waiting, sometimes I want bench-riding to be, to be, the activity. I got a real letter today. I think my friends are trying to make sure the post office doesn't die. I finally made it to the post office, myself. I'm trying to do my part too. I helped a lady pick up what she'd dropped, which inspired me to try to help a man save a button. He was too quick. I am not a button-saver. When I said "thank you," I meant it. I think the clerk knew, because she smiled. It looked like a real smile. I think I still know the difference. I'm not sick. The words are coming out and I like the way some of them sound. It feels like I'm pushing at the door that opens up to the hallway that leads to a good place. But then the darkness comes so fast. The good things that happened in the light, fall into the shadows. The trees get naked, but they don't seem to enjoy it. It doesn't smell like snow yet, but the sky remembers. Then the stars remember. Then I remember- this used to be my favorite season.