Time and Time Again

It is that time again.  The time when I think about how time has slipped past me again.  The time when I look back and then look ahead.  When I think maybe it would be best to just look at now.  Otherwise, when I look ahead, I see shortness.  When I look back, I see forever.  It is easy to get a little lost in the back of time, and a little overwhelmed in time’s front side.

Ruminating about time and where I think I have been and where I might be going takes me out of the now.  Yet it is the now that counts, that makes the future and the past.  I want to savor my moments, but I wonder if that makes me a bit of a narcissist, and then I wonder why that even matters, in consideration of the fullness of time and the sheer number of moments I have had and will have .

Every moment.  The moments when I type these letters, when I listen to my cats purr or feel the warmth of the day, watch the clouds come between the moon and me, see a wave break on the shore.  Each of those counts as time, again, again, and yet again.  I am awed, time and time and time again.

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