My favorite clock is a pretty thing I’ve had for forty-six years. However, its stained casing and tendency to quickly run down indicates its age more than the time. I find it somewhat depressing that we have already arrived at November 22, 2018. Depressing because, where has all that time, and especially this year gone? Am I the only one who struggles with this phenomenon, or does anyone else find the passage of time a puzzlement?
The seasons blur one into the other with none of the clear delineations I remember as a child and I don’t know if this is a factor. Or is it, now that I am older, I move more slowly and can’t (or more honestly) don’t want to rush and enjoy what I do because I have few distractions?
Or is it that the retail sector bombards us with seasonal celebrations before we have even got to them. Once January 1st rolls around Valentine products very soon hit the stores. No sooner is that done then everything moves on to Easter, and then Mother’s and Father’s Day with a dozen or more celebrations along the way of Best Friends Day, Secretary’s Day – you name it, somebody and their dog have a day. And then it’s Halloween and Thanksgiving and very soon it will be Christmas and New Year’s and the whole ball of wax starts rolling all over again.
And what do we have in between? Not always blue skies, barbeques,
So now that I have taken the time to complain about time, it's time to start writing again or I'll run out of time before the next chapter is finished!
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