Dear Friends & Readers:
Another Tuesday has come and gone. This one slipped through
my fingers and I didn't realize it because being off Labor Day made it feel
like a Monday. That’s my story and I’m sticking by it. So here I am heading to
the Confessional a day late. At least there is no line.
I confess that it is hard to believe that it’s September.
Hard to believe because it seems like the first pitch of spring training was
just thrown out yesterday. Hard to believe too, because I usually make some provision
for coaching/mentoring in the fall and I've done nothing towards that end this
year. This I just realized today.
I've been so busy writing and submitting that I confess that
I have in some ways been less aware of the world around me. Oh, I’m not
neglecting to interact with my family. I’m not hold up in a room writing and
forgetting to eat (though that might be a way to shed a few pounds) and I know
about Syria, I know about sequester, and I’m aware that poetry & the world
lost Seamus Heaney. It’s perhaps the more subtle things around me that are
racing by.
I confess that days seem long and months seem fast. Does
that make sense? Is this what getting older is like?
True, time is an arbitrary measurement created by man but I
confess that I wish it were more arbitrary to me personally. I’d like to stop
the clock at times or at lease slow it down. True, I’d probably speed it up
weekdays between 8 and 5 but I’m sure that as soon as I realized that I couldn't
get all my work done I’d be more responsible or judicious in how I allocated
it. At least I could make sure I got my confession done on Tuesday and not
Wednesday.
Amen!
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