So long

It’s that time of year again, when everything is poised to tip the other way. Crickets chirp and cicadas hum all day long, and the afternoons are dead still. Smells are more localized – a sharp bite of marigold as you pass, and the first hint of decay in the poplar leaves as they rattle and begin to fall. The options are dwindling for the wasps too, and they go stupid.

This morning I walked by a summer house on the lake and saw a young man carrying cases to the family station wagon. They still make station wagons, I suppose, but this one was probably the family relic, used mainly for summer and boarded up in the winter. The back hatch was open and facing the road, and the low sun shone inside. The guy was about college age, carrying a golf bag, zippered up for a flight, and towing a floppy suitcase behind through the morning dew on the grass. He wore a long sleeve button down shirt and long pants. I was prepared to wave and say hi, but he never looked up. It’s back to the other life for him, back to the real world.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s