My Acknowledgement of Time’s Passing
The seasons are changing and as always, it makes me sad. Do I *have* SADD? No, I don’t. What I do have is an acknowledgement of the passing of time. This knowledge makes me…introspective. Contemplative. Heartsick. Demoralized. You know – navel-gazingly sad.
In the end, this is a good thing. This helps me keep track of “where I am” in my life versus “where I should be”. Somehow the two never seem to match as I tend to concentrate on the tree while ignoring the forest, so it’s good to get that kick in the ol’ tush. Have I accomplished the goals I set out to complete during the previous season? What about since this time last year? Yeah? No? The “yeahs” are fantastic; the “nos”…not so much.
The “nos” make me sad, of course. But I have the sneaking suspicion that even if I had accomplished every possible goal and then some, the season’s passing would still be a downer.
Because like the vast majority of us, I’m mortal, and each chunk of passing time denotes a season, an era, a set of opportunities and moments that I will not have again. Regardless of how successfully spent, once gone they tend to stay gone – you can’t get them back.
Summer is all fine and good and filled with mosquitoes and stifling heat and sweat – but I wish it would last just a little…longer. I love when the weather turns a little cooler, but I do wish the sun would magically continue appearing earlier in the mornings and keep hanging out later in the evenings. It would be a mere illusion of time held in place for a bit, but it’s an illusion I would take in a heartbeat.
I just wish all the seasons would last a little longer…just a little more time…