Let’s not pretend that last weekend was anything more (and nothing less) than a furtive glimpse into the raw future, where we shall one day frolic in the sun and eat out of doors all over again, like the humans did in ancient times. And let us also regard what we’ve got this weekend — rain, rain, and oh, how about a little rain with your rain — as something like a speeded-up version of the last throes of adolescence. You’ll stay in and listen to The Smiths. You’ll spend whole half-hours staring at things that have been hanging on your walls since you moved in. You’ll go out, but it won’t mean anything. Cherish this time, this idle melancholy time. Revel in it. It’s not like you have anything better to do. And when you do finally emerge — when we all do — we’ll remember this time, this rainy season in the wake of the thaw. And on Sunday, you will rise, turn the clocks forward and know:

You’ve just about made it.

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This entry was posted on Friday, March 12th, 2010 at 4:16 pm.