The colors are already fading and the cold is here. I've been out everywhere it seems, catching up on front porches, watching the World Series and the first Cavs game with some of my old Kentinistas, sitting all night nursing a beer a friend of mine said I'd like as we listen to R.E.M and the Pogues at the Irish pub around the corner as we ponder the universe and tell stories with the bartender, alternately wide-eyed and laughing.
I come home to my lonely apartment, savoring the peace, realizing that cooking for one isn't so bad and that I'm really not as lonely as I thought I'd be when I visualized my life in earlier years of being single, working, and eating alone. I'm sure I will have nights where it will hurt, but I had those even when I had six roommates, and life is more beautiful than I could have ever imagined even in its sadness and disappointments.
All these questions we try to answer about our world, our cities, ourselves, and the way that we connect and disengage with each other. We know we don't know everything but that's never stopped us from trying.
And I try to keep my head up and my mouth from saying everything that wants to come out knowing that not all of it is good or useful. There's times I wish I could really say what I'm thinking or vent to someone else about how this person does that thing and how lame it is. But what good does that do all the time?
And I attempt to make sense, to seek beauty, to love better and truer. There has been so much I've learned, and I realize more and more why wisdom is such a priceless thing. I'm not there yet, but what I've tasted of it makes me want more.