It’s warm and the sun is shining and the snow is melting. James Taylor is singing in my ear. I can almost believe that winter has broken, but I don’t. It still has plenty of grief to give us. Like an old man trying to return soup at a deli.
I find myself in the position that I’ve been in for the last month: I have something that I want to express, but I can’t do it justice. If I was a painter I wouldn’t be able to find the right colors. If I was a composer I wouldn’t be able to find the right notes. But I am a writer, and I can’t find the right words.
You guys listen to James Taylor. He’s beautiful.
And look for me in the school paper this week. I’ve some things to say in it.