by Bella Rum
After that last post about winter’s arrival, this one must seem a little like backtracking, but I have to tell you about this evening. We’re sitting in the office, and the window is open. There is the slightest sharpness to the air; the distinct scent of decaying leaves is drifting through the window, and I can hear a dog barking at the other end of the cul-de-sac. I know this is one of the last evenings we’ll sit like this, window open and night sounds serenading us, before winter truly settles in for the duration.
How easy it is to overlook these moments. They slip so quietly through the cracks. We’re all busy with busy things. I wish I could box this night up and send it to you. What a gift it would be. You could save it for one of those times when you feel “as small as a thumbprint on the window of a skyscraper.” — Charles Bukowski
Thinking of you in this night.