Mid(dleofthe)night Musings
Feb. 2nd, 2007 02:08 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bookofmirrorsI wonder why it is that, even if you've been tired, and possibly sick, pretty much all week, to the point that you take 2 nights off in a 7-day period, and still don't feel quite yourself, that on whatever the subjective "Friday" is, you get a burst of energy, or at least insomnia? I'm talking about myself, of course, especially in the specifics, but the Friday phenomenon seems to be a common one.
As I left David's house tonight, I was greeted by a swirling mist as the garage door went up. I walked into what looked like fog on the air, appeared at rain on the ground, and felt like snow on my face. (My intellectual mind, looking back, I suppose it felt a bit more like sleet, but in that moment, there was a magic, and all I could feel was snow.) There was something about the misty snow that blanketed the very air. There were no cars, and tonight, it felt like I was alone in the world, experiencing that wonder. The air was crisp, and fresh, and smelled of Beginning, of Renewal. I walked down the driveway slowly, breathing deep, and immersing myself in it, barely believing that there was no ice under my feet. For a while, even the drive was surreal. Of course, Atlanta made herself known again, and it became just another night of passing cars, slowing down for stoplights, and dodging the construction on Piedmont. There was mist at my apartment, but it wasn't the same at all. Those moments were a gift, though, and no matter how many others may have shared that timespace with me, I still feel like I was the only one.
As I left David's house tonight, I was greeted by a swirling mist as the garage door went up. I walked into what looked like fog on the air, appeared at rain on the ground, and felt like snow on my face. (My intellectual mind, looking back, I suppose it felt a bit more like sleet, but in that moment, there was a magic, and all I could feel was snow.) There was something about the misty snow that blanketed the very air. There were no cars, and tonight, it felt like I was alone in the world, experiencing that wonder. The air was crisp, and fresh, and smelled of Beginning, of Renewal. I walked down the driveway slowly, breathing deep, and immersing myself in it, barely believing that there was no ice under my feet. For a while, even the drive was surreal. Of course, Atlanta made herself known again, and it became just another night of passing cars, slowing down for stoplights, and dodging the construction on Piedmont. There was mist at my apartment, but it wasn't the same at all. Those moments were a gift, though, and no matter how many others may have shared that timespace with me, I still feel like I was the only one.
