It’s such a strange time of year.
Still summer, but not really. And not fall. Sweaty thighs in jeans and goose pimples in too much air conditioning. Summer seems over and (if the Starks will pardon me) winter seems that it will never come.
Things are happening, though. The kids are growing and school is chugging along. When my classes start this week it will (fingers crossed) be my last fall as an undergrad – which makes me almost giddy.
It almost feels like I should be quiet, contemplate the changing seasons or some other poetic shit, but the truth of it all is that I just feel old. I feel old to look at my kids, at my place in this point of time. And I feel like I’m waiting for something. Like the breath before the blow.