And although I have grown used to their quick arrivals and unwelcome departures, this time, the transition is too sharp and too complete.
The tree comes down, the house is tidied and off they go. My living space is suddenly too orderly, too immaculate -- stripped of their spirit.
I look around, confused. Wasn’t it just a minute ago that the room was fragrant with pine and cluttered with bright lights and cool wit? Didn’t I just have to nudge someone to move over and make room on the couch? Why isn’t there a half finished Klarbrunn (our beloved local fizzy water) in the fridge? And why isn’t anyone putting out plates of food for us to snack on while I fix dinner?
Abruptly empty.
And cold.
Inside and out.
Lake Mendota, slowly freezing over
