I'm listening to Re: Stacks by Bon Iver, and it is making me so incredibly sad. It isn't a normal sadness, though—the kind that comes from loss, the aftermath of gut-wrenching pain. This song, the very sound of Justin's voice reminds me of the beginnings of spring and the way it defines subtlety with its transition into summer. This is my excavation...and I am working from Mike's Ludlow apartment on a Monday afternoon, all silence save my music in the background. I sip lattes at The Radical Roaster, now closed. The Versa's windows are down as we make our way sleepily back to Cambridge. I'm on an early early bus to the T then forever on the green line headed to Riverside. I'm on a bus to the western side of the state, anticipating Mike, anticipating the weekend. I'm at 1293, all of the windows open, all of the fans on, all of the ice in my homemade coffee. I am in flowing skirts, hair up, packing for the weekend, for beaches, for picnics. We've had unseasonable warmth today and yesterday, but tomorrow and next week we're back at the mercy of Winter. And so I listen to Bon Iver, I pause, I ache this good ache.