When I was young I was impatient. I couldn’t wait to be 13, then 16, then 18, then 21. I couldn’t wait to become a teenager, to drive, to date, to vote, to work, to live on my own. Time moved so slowly, too slowly. It drove me crazy.
Now that I’m in my dotage it’s the exact opposite. I can’t keep up, can’t keep track. The days turn into weeks and months and years and decades way too quickly. It’s not fair, what’s the rush?
Why can there be no happy medium?
Don’t bother trying to come up with an answer. It’s one of those questions for which there is no answer.
It was just this time, last year. I barely blinked and here we are, about to watch the ball drop in Time Square AGAIN.
And what, pray tell, are we heading into? Ha! That’s a gazillion dollar question if ever there was one.
Usually, once I get past my distaste for the festivities part of New Years, I get a little excited. You know what I mean, don’t you? I tend to approach the coming year with a positive attitude, hope, anticipation, expectation. Nothing unrealistic, just positive.
But this year? I dunno, to be honest.
No need to go into “why.” We’ve all had more than enough of the “why” already.
So let’s just say I’m keeping my fingers crossed. And my toes. And my arms and legs. And my eyes. And, sad to say, my boobs. Hey, with time goes gravity!
On a happier note, Happy New Year. Be healthy, be content with who you are and what you have, give and receive love, be safe and live in peace.
That is my wish for all of us.