Largely, I manage to cling to my summer me until November, when early darkness drives me toward a different light, one whose radiance is contained only by a door. Opening the refrigerator, I reach for comfort foods to assuage my discomfort with the calendar before crawling under the comforter, the fridge door open all this uncomfortable time, my weight shifting from foot to foot and season to season.
I had a roommate in college who always left a few bites on her plate. "It's my diet," she would joke.
Largely, I manage to cling to my summer me until November, when early darkness drives me toward a different light, one whose radiance is contained only by a door. Opening the refrigerator, I reach for comfort foods to assuage my discomfort with the calendar before crawling under the comforter, the fridge door open all this uncomfortable time, my weight shifting from foot to foot and season to season.