We spent this Labor Day weekend at the lake, which has not been our usual custom.
We had (or, rather, are having) a lovely time; the weather has been nice, the accommodations are comfortable (we’re staying in the little house usually occupied by my in-laws; the gentleman who owns the property is here this weekend with his grown children in the big house), and by any reckoning, everyone is having a good weekend.
There’s a tinge of sadness in it for me, though. I’m finding myself missing the ocean, a particular kind of pizza, and someone very dear to me.
I’m certain this is what is meant by “bittersweet.”