I inaugurated my return to New Haven tonight with an hour-long walk through the snow and rain. It's almost spring and I'm still feeling the snow crunch under my sneakers. It's mid-March and I'm still hanging my parka to dry.
B and I had a huge fight tonight-- the kind where you're yelling into the wind and rain and the snow gusts around you; the kind that sends you storming from East Rock back downtown, the cold puffing up your moist eyes. I cried the entire way, partly because I thought the snow and the wind would cover my sobs, and partly because I couldn't stop. Maybe it's the kind of fight that breaks people. When I peeled soaking sneakers off my feet we were still arguing.
And now I just want to stay here in this little apartment where it's warm and dry, huddled in the corner of my couch. Would it be extra pathetic if I mentioned that what I also want to do is listen to Toad the Wet Sprocket in the dark, with candles lit and glass of scotch in hand? Whew-- now that's good dramatics.
Walk on the ocean, step on the stones...
