Waking to a frigid room, I pulled the heavy robe around me, and an extra blanket around my shoulders. (Some pictures are better left unseen.) I put on a pot of tea and groggily greeted the morning. The sun had returned, but did little for the chilly start of the day. I remembered how one of my Literature professors at Brandeis had explained that she always waited for that really cold first snap of fall, the way it jolted you into awareness of the season. This could be that morning.
A Sunday of departure has the potential to go a few ways. There’s the early start to everything, in which I could beat traffic and be well on the way home before the stroke of eight or nine. Then there’s the late morning drive, when most people are starting to hit the road, and the first crush of traffic pushes you forward. The early afternoon departure is tricky traffic-wise, and this runs until about four or five. For the most part, I try to avoid leaving between noon and five as there is always backed-up traffic issues then. I didn’t manage that this time, but it was worth it.
We set up a make-do breakfast, with leftover fruit from the night before, along with some toasted bagels and crackers. A berry Echinacea tea warded off the cold, even if I’m not a big fan of the berry teas. The sun slowly began to warm the outside, and I opened the blinds to the bedroom. Light poured in, and I decided to forego an early departure. You can’t put a price on that kind of light. It fills the soul.
Back to Blog
