Every Day Is Like

Days like this remind me of Rochester so much: numb fingers and toes; snow squeaking underfoot; dull, gray light; and that sinking Sunday feeling.

I remember Sundays as the time for desperately running around campus, chasing the weak light, trying to take three rolls of film for Monday morning's photo class. I usually put off the assignments every week because it was always so cold outside- maybe tomorrow will be warmer, I'd think to myself. It never was.


I've learned a little bit since I was 17, though. I can see the beauty in these days now, even if I still taste that Sunday feeling.