I never really wish it away.
In fact, I'd probably make a deal with the devil to have it go backwards for a while.
But, the more I swim and need water, the more I need December - April to just go away.
Is that so much to ask for, to have longer days packed into a seven-month year?
But I'm teetering on 50 here (holy fuck), and I need time to stop, slow down. I need time NOT to fly, or months to disappear.
I need to wish 2014 to stay looming in the FAR distance, even though I won't see my next YA in publication until then.
Competing interests, wouldn't you say?
from Dr. Doolittle,
wanting time to fly almost as badly as
I want it to stand still.
And yet, I know better.
As I sit here and type, my eyes keep darting up to this sweet little
art project my youngest brought home to me what
feels like five minutes ago. . .
Five minutes ago, I put it up on that shelf for safe-keeping (and viewing) until I could find a better spot for it.
It must've been November, for All Saints Day or Day of the Dead, in elementary school, at least five years ago.
Five years in five minutes, I tell you.
Five lousy minutes ago.
Yeah, I'd make that deal with the devil in a heart beat.
I need somehow to embrace the cold, dark chill in the morning and feel productive, rather than melancholy and dull.