Yes, I am.
That I haven’t visited my favorite blogs, don’t answer emails, hardly click “like” on Facebook, and have spent the last three weeks trying to find the time to do the last three chapters of my latest book.
Last week, I was so confused, I posted my Wednesday blog on Tuesday. Then on Thursday, I took it down because I didn’t feel like doing a trilogy or a duo or even this lame excuse for a post I am doing today.
I am truly blue … a nice periwinkle with shades of baby-blue and navy.
And so to save my sorry-self for the next few weeks leading up to and including my favorite time of year, I will post reruns
Posts some of you have never read, save Christi Corbett, who has been reading me from the beginning.
For those of you who haven’t heard from me lately, on and off the blog, I offer my sincere apology and ask for your indulgence and patience.
This Phoenix will rise again …
Posted originally in 2010.
It’s the middle of the week and you can see Friday peeking over the horizon, a bright ball of sun, exploding in your head. Almost there.
We are forever keeping time, looking ahead for what we would love to have, or looking back at something we forgot.
My favorite definition of time is power. To have the power to use it, be consumed, deluged and surrounded with the time to do what is immediately gratifying.
The ability to mold and create one’s life with no worry of time running out. We are all born to die and what we do with the time we have between is all we leave behind.
Our real battles are fought against it. Will there be enough to realize our secret desires; fulfill our obligations; with some to spare to get the kids through college? Can we meet the demands of our days; find peace in our nights?
We are surrounded with clichés like: She died before her time. Time flies. Before you know it, it’s gone. You’re young and you have plenty of time. Time heals all wounds. All the mysteries of life will be revealed … in time.
Or an old favorite … Time waits for no one.
We may believe that in time, like fruit, we ripen on the vine of life; becoming sweeter; juicier.
Time allows the “ah ha” of it all to settle into our brains. Those were the good old days. We’ll never see that time come around again.
In my day life was easier, simpler, stricter; safer. We didn’t lock our doors and were never afraid to let our kids stay out all day and half the night. We didn’t live in a barbwired, gated, alarmed, concrete fortress; our children captives of mean time.
We rush, hustle, bustle and scramble hysterically through the years; didn’t have, couldn’t get; didn’t become something … in time.
No matter how we see it … we never have enough … do enough within the minutes we’re allotted … we will always look for the next swell of a hill … look around the next corner.
We move in our own time … until we run out of …
Time to slip
Off the edge, with