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.