Those mornings during Christmas break when the house was quiet, I'd sleep in, and then wake up and put on Hanson's "Snowed In"...

It feels like winter here, thus creating some sort of teasing nostalgia. Nostalgia that I can't quite pin down, like when someone walks by and you smell their perfume, but you can't figure out why you know that smell.. if only they would walk by again, you might have a chance to settle yourself. That's how it is here. It started on the drive home-- looking out the windshield, it's like I could TELL that the weather was cool, but how? The shadows? The brownish grass and trees? The fact that the AC in my car wasn't kicked up all the way? Either way... it was cool outside, and my body knew it, and it began pushing me toward memories-- but which memories? Memories of Eunice High and the cool air in the later season of football games? Memories of LSMSA, when the weather was nice enough for everyone to sit outside in the courtyard? (Which led directly, of course, to-- memories of Taylor Coleman?) Memories of last year with Emily? Or did they go even further back, when I'd skip school in junior high, sleep in, finally get out of bed around noon, and wander over to the computer to talk to Joey, whose school vacations were different than ours? The linoleum was always cool to my feet those days... Or perhaps these memories were not geared towards the fall at all, as I always neglect the fact that October can in fact feel the same as late March... Being home now, the drive over, there is still something sweetly nostalgic on my body, but it remains beyond my grasp still. The tile is cool to the touch, there is no sunlight streaming through the window, Dad comes home from riding his motorcycle wearing a jacket... telltale signs of fall turning to winter (but not before another heat spell, as we should all predict in Louisiana).....................I don't know. I don't know what my body is looking for. Trying to find it, though, is exhausting, and frankly, rather ridiculous, as sometimes I catch a scent of who-knows-what and sniff the air ridiculously and deeply for five minutes straight, like some sort of starving dog. So I give up; I'm letting it go. At the very least, the atmosphere is perfect for lingering thoughts of Emily... Maybe now the cool air and half-scents will always remind me of her, just as twisting an Oreo will forever be accompanied with "I wish she would love me forever".