The air was different today. Coolness with a touch of moisture and dark, high clouds that cover the sun. It reminds me of damp summer rain and dives in the pool, juicy watermelon that runs down your chin, of summer school PE and tackle rugby, playing tennis and soccer at dusk, my friends, of waiting with Meems in the rain, a single blooming tree cornering the back entrance, of Gelato at Piccomolo and ice cream at Coldstone, the strike of that first chord at Carnegie, of late night rendezvous at Starbucks, the soft creek of a childs swing (one that i’ve outgrown only in weight), the gentle rumble of my mom pulling in from work, T.S. Eliot and the Wasteland, “What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow Out of this stony rubbish?” Steinbeck and the Grapes of Wrath, Faulkner and The Sound and the Fury. I wonder how they felt. I wonder how you are… all of you from before and from after. I wonder about distance and forever.