The transition from green to yellow is surprisingly quick, the light dimmed so suddenly that one day it just happens, every hour of sun is squandered on the inside, leaving life solely illuminated by fluorescence and cathode rays. The rain rolls in one night on a rush of wind and in my stubbornness I refuse to unpack the umbrella, preferring for the moment the shock of cool water against my face. The rainy season has arrived.
Back in college it used to rain so much this one time Pete picked me up in a canoe; we spent the entire day drinking beers while he paddled me about. Sometimes we just drifted where the streets would take us, but mostly we just laughed and laughed. He ran Hood to Coast this year so thoroughly he's taken to Portland, It reminds me of New Orleans he told me a few weeks ago, and that's as good a reason to take to a place as any I suppose.
After the storm my best friend and I compared notes and succeeded only in making us both horribly wistful for days spent commiserating over lunch trays at Bruff. I lost 15 freshman year--I always have to be different it seems--but gained more than I can count. My friends, yeah, and myself. So now, at the start of yet another school year, I'm planning my own return to campus. Flights and hotel are booked, football tickets are in hand. But this time my companions will be rooting for the other team. You can go back, but it's never quite the same.
Especially when your cat has smothered the entire damn city.