But my tears weren’t so much for some distant memory…they were for…well…I don’t really know.
The air here in Jackson is soft and breezy and sunny and hovering as much below warm as it is above cool.
It’s my favorite type of day…a day so wonderful that even the moon stays out until noon to play and bask in the pleasantness.
It’s the kind of day that fills me with a sense of goodness…of happiness…of comfort…of longing…and of sadness…all at once. But I don’t really know why.
As I drove, I rolled down all of my windows and soaked in the feel…trying to figure out what in me was sparking such melancholy loveliness.
Is the start of fall synonymous for me of being in love? Perhaps…maybe a little.
Is it the thought of camping and hiking and spending time in nature? Yes…a bit.
Is it memories of high school, being in the band and the giddiness of Friday night football games? Possibly.
Is it last fall and the fall before that and the one before that…an amalgam of all my sense memories from Septembers gone? I suppose.
Maybe it’s nothing…maybe I’m just in love with the air around me.
But no matter what sparked this waver between joy and sadness, the resulting conflict of emotions was most bizarre.
So I decided to add to my torment a little more and reached over to turn up the stereo…which was already humming with some early Taylor Hicks…before he offered us his heart and soul and was singing of his “Blues and Soul.”
And, like this rambling post, I got lost in the deliciousness of the angst.