on cider, turkeys and wooly hats

Skating rink, people wearing jackets and wooly hats in NYC. On winter days, I feel remote and extraterrestrial living in Hawaii. I went out and bought a turkey. Decorated my house with leaves and pumpkins. Even bought a Febreeze harvest scented candle. For nothing. I still look out on palm trees, ocean waves, the ever green background or foreground of my front yard. Yes, I live in paradise. But on days like these, around the holidays I feel ever so disconnected, so recluse and detached from reality. almost as if I were an alien looking down on people who go about their cyclical, seasonal lives, enjoying the highlights of what everything seasons have to offer. Living every holiday to its fullest. I am a little jealous, perhaps not jealous but overcome with nostalgia and longing. on days like these, when just the whiff of pine cones and the smell of hot cider brings tears to my eyes. Blame Marcel Proust.