No, this should be called Reflections on May, when I didn't wear a sweater, bare arms against dirty windows on the train to the old apartment with high ceilings and lavendar walls, the two small dogs that greeted me outside the elevator, the tea waiting for me upon arrival in cooler months replaced by handfuls of chocolate shoved in my pockets on my way out.
I mean, who knows what will happen. Maybe the world will end in 2012.
Oh, it won't do that. She shakes her head, big sleeves hang from her shoulders.
You sound so sure.
Her eyes are earnest, wide. No, it's not the end of the world. Not like that, at least. It's just going to be a new way of thinking, an age of understanding.
And there's nothing to worry about.