Things are changing. I can feel it in the air. I can see it through the mellow light. It is that weird time of the year before winter sets in. As the sunrays seep into the cracks in my wall, I welcome the light. The soft, soothing kind that pacifies the anxious, comforts the distressed. The dust flakes dance and glow with each ray that clears the shadowed room.
The plants stick their heads out the window to soak in the gentle, fading warmth. The pleasant cool in the air plays with the snug afternoon sun. The birds seem to be the only ones with plenty of verve, fluttering from one sun-dappled branch to the other. The sky sparkles in brilliant hues that make every sight picturesque, every object beautiful.
You feel the heat but you barely perspire. Your head is hot but hands and feet grow strangely cold like they’re suddenly not your own. Occasional goosebumps remind you of the shivery chill to follow in the coming weeks. There is a mild dryness on everyone as they feel the unusual itch and bite of the skin.
The calm of dusk slowly penetrates into you to cozily lull you to bed. The night air gets a bit nippy as I turn the fan down to just the right room temperature. I shuffle between the light blanket and the warm comforter. As the days get shorter, my body slowly oscillates between being wide awake and utterly drowsy, preparing to fight the drugged hibernation mode each morning for the next few months. Through half-shut eyes, I type the fuzzy letters as the long winter sleep coerces and nu m b s s ;