evening downer

Something about sunset induces melancholy. Even, God forbid, elicits the worst sort of doggerel. Often did, at least in me, I never knew why. At the end of the day, the day ending, another day of life, loves far away. I don’t know. Memories from long ago. Daddy’s home! Papa, come get me. Sitting on the east bank of the Susquehanna watching a groundhog watch me watching him watch me, and trying to let go of what never again will be. At sea. Or longings. Wondering why what I expected isn't, wasn't. Not always, seldom in fact, just from time to time. But when it comes, it can take me way down if I let it, or sometimes even in spite of me. 

It was that way last night, happened last evening. First time since moving here that I missed My Laughing Place, to go and wonder why life is what it is instead of other. But this is better than MLP, far better, except there’s no ancient cedar to lean against. No ants either, though, or mosquitos, gnats. 

What was it? Something about the harbor lights, that flashing green channel marker way across the Bay?

Why? Why last evening? A priest is often privy to heartache in someone else’s life, sadness in someone else’s heart. As a priest, my every experience, good or bad then, in my life helps me understand and empathize now. But also to internalize. So, if you’re sad, I understand, but I remember, and it all comes back. At sunset. 

Let the reader understand. I do not. I don’t need to. 

Anyway, it’s gone now, I'm all welcome, happy morning! age to age shall say. Visible: Venus, Jupiter, Mars.

Thos+