Burningbird: A Winter Evening

August 12, 2002

A Winter Evening

Gary awakened in me a nostalgia with his compelling description of a cold afternoon and a wait for a ride home:

She's here. One minute early, you smile and grab each other closely by the arm for warmth and then briskly walk off into the crowd telling tales of the day. Before long you'll be home, eating, living, loving, safe. Warm.

Perhaps I'm worn down a bit by the heat and humidity of my new home, but the thought of cold, brisk air appeals to me. Tonight I feel oddly homesick for the home I had in Vermont. For the home I had in San Francisco. For the home I had in Boston. For the home I had in St. Louis before things changed. For Gary's home.

Posted by Bb at August 12, 2002 12:01 AM

Comments

I know what it means to be homesick and I sympathize.

Posted by: Richard on August 11, 2002 11:40 PM

i have reverse SAD. I love winter, especially the first night after daylight savings change when it's as if someone just switched off the lights and you know you're now in winter.

Posted by: gary on August 12, 2002 02:22 AM

Gary, me too--me too. I have been called a bat. When we get over the hump of summer and the days get shorter, I feel more and more alive. George is SAD, I'm a BAT. what's up with DAT?

Posted by: jeneane on August 12, 2002 08:26 AM

I must be in the air. I've lived in various apartments for the past 20 years, and none have felt like home. This tiny one I live in while I follow through on my promise to take care of my mom (across the hall) is making me feel like I live in a cell. This is not my home. I wonder if I will ever have a home again.

Posted by: Elaine of Kalilily on August 12, 2002 09:22 AM