Tuesday, August 14, 2007


The heat of the day is like a weight, so I take my adventures in the evening; 9:30 at night, and it still feels like biking through pineapple juice, the air forming a second skin on my body that lifts up and off whenever I coast down a hill. I find myself pedaling up slopes just to turn and rush back down them, molting the summer weather. Sated cicadas rattle the porch in their death throes, droning out an elegy for the season. Convenience store fireworks flare on every corner. My jeans stick to my knees as I pedal and pedal and pedal...

I had been warned about 'short timers disease' setting in -- this is something like the FS version of 'senioritis'. It creeps up on you slowly. It dawns on you that the time you've been here far outweighs the time you have left. Someone mentions a future event, and you realize you'll be gone before it happens. You go to see a place, and wonder if you'll ever get a chance to come back. You start to feel unsettled. You get on your bike and you pedal and pedal and pedal, but you're not really sure where you're going.

I don't want to waste my time on this feeling.

1 comment:

dandelion feet said...

sister, i miss you.