Time it was, and what a time it was.

Another summer, gone. And what's waiting is the wretched semester we have ahead of us. One which isn't just looming large now, but has come out on to the porch and is about to knock on the door.

How I wish I had a bigger padlock. Or a moat.

In my room for this one last night, staring at the rain-flecked window, hearing the soft sounds of drops falling on it, I feel quite melancholic. The others, they have all left. My own flight back being on Sunday, I am still here... finding myself in a rather pensive and contemplative mood. Why I am writing this of all things when I am so, ask me not.

It's been one terrific summer, one of the best I've ever had. Alas, all that is good comes to an end. And the better get done a-quicker. This summer got over almost with an unseemly haste. Few are the things that I value before they are gone.
But this was certainly one.
And now it's gone.

As you might have surmised, I really like starting sentences with conjunctions. Terrible grammatically, I know. Even then. Maybe because it is grammatically incorrect. Perhaps to subconsciously compensate for my otherwise pigheaded nature about spelling and grammar and so forth.

But I digress. You know, earlier I'd wanted to test something out. Testing to me quite obviously meant disproving, vain as I am. I wanted to drink water from the Old Well and then stay away from Chapel Hill and be living proof that the well was just a well. No myths attached. Not the most glorious of aims, I agree.

Now... now I am not so sure. There is a good chance that I might come back here next fall. Dunno if any place 'higher up' would be really better for me. And people seem to like me here, and want me to come back. That just makes me grin a grin that's proud, triumphant and elated.

I know what you're thinking. The well worked it's stuff, huh?

Heh. Me reinforcing a myth. I would never have thunk it. Would've considered myself way too cynical and suspicious for something of that nature. But there you go.

For some reason I'm reminded of lines from the Simon and Garfunkel song, Old friends.

Can you imagine us
Years from today,
Sharing a park bench quietly?
How terribly strange
To be seventy.
Old friends,
Memory brushes the same years
Silently sharing the same fears

Goodbye, UNC. Or maybe, au revoir!