Autumn Skies

There are times here when the space feels too narrow.

My roommate insists upon playing her Christian Rock or her TikTok at full volume while I’m in the same room or next room and it takes all I have in me not to gnaw my own arm off in protest. What’s worse is when she insists upon her “Come to Jesus” talks, the solemn look on her cherubic cheeks while she insists upon bringing one of her micro-dramas to the fore while I’d rather not.

It was a given that she was behind the random room search. Once again she told me she was going to give up vaping, and once again I found her huffing and puffing on a vape she, “just happened to find” in “one of her book bags”, despite throwing all her vapes away.

I realize I can’t trust her as I once thought I could. Especially when I hear stories from one of her many life coaches about how she’s purging on and off continuously, despite claiming she won’t/isn’t.

I was remiss to bring up the distraction of her public music playing until it came time to cancel my WiFi bill back home, then I had a valid excuse not to remain indifferent to it. In reality, I was quite indignant, but given her childish and sour blowup regarding the fact the other night (the belligerent sound of her TikTok-ing the other night while I tried to watch The Way We Were) I was careful not to poke the bear.

She knows it’s my period, she knows that I’ve been in a mood, yet she doesn’t seem to comprehend what that might mean when I can’t entertain one of her heavy moods.

I feel lethargic and want to hide away. I miss the rain slicked asphalt roads of Illinois, P tells me it’s been rainy back home. I do love a gloomy autumn in the Midwest. I want to take a walk to my aunt and uncle’s old house and wander the cobblestoned sidewalks of Geneva, peering through shop windows. I miss the way Pine Street looks, all those glorious oak trees whose leaves turn russet, crimson, and gold beneath autumn skies while skeletons and gossamer cobwebs hang over the familiar gutters, the enigmatic beauty of Wheeler Park, always a bit novel in the fall despite me knowing it for years.

It’s just not the same with the balmy, tropical weather and the chestnut plumes of the herons. I’m so homesick.