The cicadas are dying, developers are cutting down the trees on my path home, and I turned in my last rent-check.
Time to head on home.
Summer’s end in the mid-Atlantic states is so different from summer in California. The seasons turn by killing off different kinds of bugs.
The smells are different too–the grass grows acres after every afternoon rainstorm and the sewers gas up and fill the bus-stops over them with their presence.
When the thunderstorms are coming, everyone rides the Metro on edge. Cars with broken air-conditioning steam tempers already bubbling from the air pressure. Some folks crackle into bitter comments, some crawl under their newspapers and Kindles, some reach their hands high in the public-transport power salute, and smile at men they don’t like.
Pittsburgh will be different; colder, emptier, dryer. More full of opportunities I’ve explored and have more access to and friends I’ve known for more than a few weeks and public transit where the AC always works.
It will be different.
“The sum which two married people owe to one another defies calculation. It is an infinite debt, which can only be discharged through all eternity.”–Johann Wolfgang von Goethe