Wes þu hal...

I got out of my P.A. class right as the sun was setting, and that was good, because it was warm today, and the snow was melting and running in rivulets against the pavement, and will freeze when it gets good and blue-dark. Stankowsky field has a large patch with snow still, where the shade of the hill protected it from the warmest of the suns rays. The lacrosse team was running across this section, leaving shadowy footprints in the white show, and behind them the main field looked like green grass, and another team without uniforms relaxed there, and the buildings behind that were lit by the last golden rays of the sun. It felt like looking across seasons, backwards, naturally... Lovely.

Because I spoke with him today, he came to my mind. And I was glad, glad that the image on my heart is fading, that the memories seem black and white and distant, because if I loved him now as I loved him then, it would rend my heart to know what he's planning to do, and where he's planning to go. As it stands, it's only this shudder and this sigh, and "Ah yes, it's your life, and none of mine at all, but... Wes þu hal."