something's missing but something is found
Summer has been, consistently over the years: eating two dinners, cleaning out my room-- the closet, old papers-- while listening to Joni Mitchell and The Decemberists, sore feet and sock tans, driving home from James' house with the radio turned off and the windows open, although that house (of all things) has changed.
And this year now it's a lot of mixed feelings. "Baby yourself for one more summer." It's a lot less this year than it used to be, but in some ways it's a lot more. I'm getting scared. If anything, it just feels real, suddenly.
And this year now it's a lot of mixed feelings. "Baby yourself for one more summer." It's a lot less this year than it used to be, but in some ways it's a lot more. I'm getting scared. If anything, it just feels real, suddenly.