Press the Pause

This morning I watched the city shake itself awake as the yellow cut into the gray, and I found myself trying to do the same.

These last few weeks have been a bit like that feeling you get right before you've had one glass too many, and last night, especially. You know, where the conversations around you and the clanking of silverware and the clinking of wine glasses melt together into a steady, low hum, and time slows down, just a little, and you begin to feel a bit flushed. You know, that feeling where the lights seem a little out of focus and you can't stop smiling and you find everything he says to be incredibly sweet and charming. Well, even if you don't know, that's the sort of happy buzz that so perfectly describes the (more) sober reality of recently; no matter where I am the cold doesn't ever really seem to touch me because my heart is always warm, and without realizing it I smile all the time now. But the best part is that he's that wonderful, even without a glass or two of chardonnay. So, while the new year signals the onset of another two blistery months and all sorts of endings, recently, everything feels like the beginning and possible.