So the Red Sox have exited the stage and it is time to accept the fact that winter is advancing. Perhaps it is not a coincidence that yesterday was the first day the floors in my apartment felt cold underneath my bare feet. I brought my space heater into the living room while relaxing there in the afternoon until noticing the sound of the season's first radiator hiss emanating from various corners of the apartment.
It is fall and soon there will be no baseball anymore. I am not being facetious when I say I'm a little sad. It reminds me of the Japanese expression a Russian recently taught me (and of course a Russian would know such things): mono no aware, the pathos of things. There's a wistfulness and contemplative fullness in the empty space here.
I've instinctively started bundling up, slipping on my favorite soft wool socks and dark blue robe with the little star pattern on it. Tonight I'm curled up listening to the sound of that space heater whirring while sandalwood incense drifts in the air. Having recently started writing baseball-themed haiku during the postseason I thought it worthwhile to locate a genuine haiku by none other than Basho to illustrate the sentiment of the moment:
And the heart begins to dream
Of four-tatami rooms
Comments