slow sunday morning x
I'd be lying to you if I said it was morning. Even more offensive, I'd be lying to you if I said this was my first coffee of the day.
It's currently 4:32pm, and I'm on my first real coffee of the day after a very subpar caf coffee, which is to be expected. I'm at the corner of my desk, and the sun is waning against the bare trees next to my room so to cast infinite scattered lines of yellow evening light. When will the evenings go back to those wonderful 9pm sunsets? We've already made it past the shortest day of the year, so I just have to have faith in the few minutes that get tacked onto the sunsets each day, knowing someday it'll still be light at 7pm. Only then will I realize I made it out of another Canadian winter.
I received a wonderful surprise the other day. I got a notification that there was mail waiting for me when I was on my way to dinner the other day, which I was a little surprised at since I wasn't expecting any zines in until at least the next week. I elected to grab it on the way to the caf so I had some reading material for my dinner, however when I reached in the mail locker to grab it, I felt not a zine envelope, but cardstock.
Pulling it out, I was looking at a postcard. I'm no stranger to mailing out surprise mail, but I rarely get any surprises sent back to me, so I was excited to say the very least. It was Parker, a fellow blogger turned penpaller friend of mine. Such a simple but beautiful little note he sent me. He was having a quiet day at home, re-heating his coffee over and over as he was doing little errands around the house. That act, he said, got him thinking of my "quiet Sunday" posts. Reading that little note was just about the highest honour of my artist/writer life so far. Thanks Parker for making my week!! That was definitely the kick I needed to stop skipping out on these so much, that little reminder, again, that people do sometimes read these.
Here's my lay down of thoughts for the week, before the sun goes down and I have no choice but to work the rest of the night away.
I have never been so aware of the transient nature of my life than I have been in the last couple of weeks. Last weekend, I visited my best friend across the country at her uni, and on our own slow sunday morning (one that I elected to not write about.. Or maybe forgot to), I realized that I would only see her during reading week, when we reunite at home, and then I wouldn't see her again until our year is over. When I return back to my home city again, I'll be trading out my new and just as wonderful uni friends for my home friends again. I'm always elated at the start, but the further I get into the summer, the more my school life gnaws at me.
I wrote about this same-ish concept last August in con moto 2 in reference to the friends I had made at my work.
It takes some time to get to know someone, to pick up those offhand notes in a conversation that become bigger discussions. Oftentimes, when I find myself talking to my work friends, I get that haunting feeling that I'll only have reason to know them, at least actively, until September. Really special people that are lost to time.
Maybe there's something a little comforting in the fact that it's a part of life that most everyone around me are going through. Hell, after this year is over, I'll need to give all of my zine people a new address to send to. The joys and adventure of living a multi-city life far outweigh the devastations of it though, so I can live with it, even if I'll be lamenting the whole way through.