Summer promised so much. It always does. Now all those opportunities are scampering away, wasted, perhaps, by the joy of actually getting enough sleep, of getting to work by 9, rather than by 7. Tomorrow, Deborah goes back to work — if the car is repaired in time — and I go back to the split shift. The easy temptation to stay up late and have fun is no longer matched by the grace of a flexible starting time in the morning. I look at Deborah's growing belly, and wonder how long I can do this. How long, until all the kids are in school? Six, seven years? I don't even like to think about it. Part of the challenge of life, is living in a way that meets with one's own approval. Leaned up against that, are the realistic options one has. So I do what I must, and move along, during these dark days of the year.
Fine: be that way, Mr. Raccoon.
1 day ago