…because you were my treasure. The dusky blues and stormy grays of yesterday so transposed by a wave of my hand. Black and gold, dazzling in every ounce of light. Luminous in the sun, and warm and secret in the evening time. I reveled in your glory, which was always mine as well. Buried treasure, you became, over the years. Cold and remote, with just a memory of the warmth you once bestowed, a mere glint here and there.
I loved you. You loved me, but you forgot me.
Painted black and gold, now, for no one ever to see.
I look forward to the holidays in San Francisco. Soon, the darling puppies and kittens will be on display at Macy’s on the corner of Stockton and O’Farrell. The city itself will likely be dressed to the nines with the traditional colors of the season.
But I’ll be home for Thanksgiving, and I will be home for Christmas. I would like to stay up here for the holidays, but I suppose that is far too grown-up for me still. At twenty-one years of age I have not yet missed a Thanksgiving or Christmas gathering with my family. Perhaps the time is ripe though.
Oh, the inevitable disappointment though, and I already do so many things my family cannot comprehend.
Meh. The tickets have already been purchased. I’ll deal with it.