“I came along, I wrote a song for you…”
Just before heading home, the weather has turned brisk. After a few days of matter-of-factly moving through time, I am hit with a wave of longing and reflection. It is natural, and means that what I’m leaving has been treasured and held with delight.
Now to decide whether to try to see an exhibit, or to continue open-endedly what I began a few days ago and continued this morning – rambling through Central Park.