A little melancholy

there is a moment of exultation and extreme sadness, comingled, when i leave the office for the day and walk to the light rail stop to wait for the train that will bear me home. i think 'my time is my own for the next 12 hours.' the evening is spread out before me like a table. then, right on its heels, i realize that i know everything i'm going to do. enter my apartment building at approximately 5:57 p.m.; check the mail; take the elevator to my floor; open the mail; fling down my gym bag and remove the day's workout clothes and accoutrements; prepare a low-cal, low-fat dinner; watch sitcoms in syndication . . .

there is a bit of a reprieve when i have evening plans, but the absence of actual possibility on five nights out of seven is rather like a dull knife thrust in the heart.

then, of course, it is summer in the mid-Atlantic. it is August in the mid-Atlantic. in addition to being unbearably hot, it is also, this year, the beginning of the first anniversary of 3 deaths (in close succession)my family suffered last year.

i remember what those unsuspecting days were like. just like these.