Thursday, May 26, 2011

dear cold May,

You aren't what I thought I was coming home to.  I didn't pack the right clothes for you.  I didn't bring the proper (and necessary) sweaters.  It's as cold as winter.  Why? My May started with snow, and it's ending with rain. 

Ugh.  Stop.  I want my summer. 


love,
hannah

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a documentation of my life in a series of letters