It reached at least 70 degrees today. I was a brat about it all day, "I don't think fall actually exists in DC." On the way home from work, I forgot to get off at my metro stop, hopped off at the next one, and walked home in the dark. My coat unnecessarily buttoned. Unnecessarily on. I had been distracted - all day. Unsettled. Off-balance. And I thought fall always meant crisp air and warm clothing.
I crossed my street and started up the walkway to my front porch. They were sitting under the porch light with a guitar, a book, a bottle of wine. I changed, located dinner, a wine glass, and joined them. Recently, Monday nights have guitar strings and melodic voices. A glass of wine. Harmony. Tonight we shared a few hours of a stolen summer night on a mid-November evening. I always thought fall meant crisp air and warm clothing. Tonight, I'm so glad it doesn't.
