When I wake up I'm okay, probably because you're with me. And when I go to sleep I'm okay, probably because you're with me too. But there's something about the mid-day - even if you're with me - that makes me feel a little blue. It used to occur in the wee hours of the night, usually on a Sunday on the line that borders the end of Summer and the beginning of Fall, right before the first day of school. Sometimes it would be in college coming down from the high of an amazing weekend to the beginning of the mundane. Now the blues hits me any day of the week knowing that my life is quite uncertain at the moment, and also knowing that my certainty lies in my own hands.
I could decide tomorrow that I am coming back. I could begin an apartment search. Put out an ad requesting a kosher kitchen near Dizengoff and Gordon. Tell my mom that this will be just another month-long vacation. Enjoy summer in New York like I used to, and cushion the blow of cooler nights and an ending summer with the promise of return.
Trying not to think about it only makes it worse. But it's inevitable and unavoidable. I just want to leave with a bitter-sweet smile on my face, some good photos to keep me warm, and maybe a bottle of wine to help me forget.