I've always liked autumn. Loved it even. It has always made me a bit melancholy. Melancholy isn't necessarily bad......and for someone who has battled depression most of her life, being able to feel anything, even melancholy is cause for celebration. I think I wrote once before how depression isn't the sad, bittersweet feeling one gets that puts you in the mood to hunker down with a blanket and book. Well for me, melancholy is just that. It is a 'good' feeling. It is a sign to me that I've won my most recent battle with depression.
So I'm sitting here at my kitchen table, all full of Elizabeth Berg who, if you haven't read her books, you really should because I were to be a writer, I would want to write the way she writes. I'm sitting here looking at the gray-blue sky, watching the winds blow through the pine branches and I'm thinking about the upcoming winter. One more winter. My old dog sits beside me. My not-quite-as-old dog sits staring at me hoping to be able to jump up on my lap. Which he will whether I agree or not. I listen to my husband harp at my son in the living room, the noise of the television in a room with no one to watch it. And I wonder why I'm sitting here at all.