Busy days

When you list what I do in a usual day it’s almost never a full sentence. Took a walk. Saw an eagle. Hell, even a day like today – where Finn and I barely had downtime, it’s crunched down into a five second explanation. After driving Lis to work, we had a snack then a nap, went to tumble class, filled the CO2 tank, Finn ate lunch and I drank fancy beer and we both ate Japanese for Lunch.

It’s strange when you start to mark your days in snips, sectioning them out in pieces that are tiny hurdles easily making them passable, your days are dumped – like opening doors of a spillway, seconds flood out of existence. When minutes become a ticker, when it’s just a quarter of an hour till the next bottle, when it’s nearly time for bath, life goes by. It’s not a flash of happenings, thing happen at regular pace – it’s the world at large going by and you are stuck on your knees holding your child’s hand as he reaches for the fleck of cardboard scraped off the cat scratcher.

I can’t put the blame on my son. I’m getting older each day, and somehow hours in a day are just never enough anymore. We stop and enjoy the view on our walks often, nearly every single day.

I’ve spent time watching sunsets with Finn, sitting with him as we stare across the rolling hills of western Maine to the far mountains that blot the horizon. Just about everyday I fall in love with this place again. But there isn’t enough time anymore. I don’t hold a powerful job either, or sip coffee while in a suit, or rush around a café (anymore). Sure, I notice the sun being hurled across the sky, but there is no slowing it down.

Life is busy, and even at my age I’m finding myself chasing the clock.

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