It's that feeling when Christmas is coming. There's that little nip and all the lights. Or the way it smells when fall is peeping her head round the corner. The anxiousness of children in the school right before they're out for the holidays. It's when you know it's alright to cry. The air is a little heavier out those days. And when it's light it's practically a command to skip.
It's that feeling that you should be writing. It's in the air, like a whisper on the breeze. You know you're far behind, you should have been doing it for ages. And now it's calling still. And so we begin.