The end of summer

The crickets are louder this year, no one knows why. As summer flies through the city, I work. A nearby conversation I overhear reminds me of the word "spinster" and this becomes what I call myself. The older you get, the smarter you are. People's tricks become easier to navigate. Maybe things hadn't fallen into place, but they were closer to it. 

The end of the summer always reminds you of crunchy orange leaves and snowstorms, but maybe this winter wouldn't be that bad. Besides, I was getting used to the frigid cold, the slippery ice and digging the car out of its parking space. Life's all about acceptance.

The watch on my wrist tells me the time but mostly I ignore it and as the daylight hours shorten, I kiss the sun goodbye.