And the sixth day seemed like a week and a half.

When I was little and still believed in Santa Claus, I can remember counting down the days until Christmas and they were just  e  n  d  l  e  s  s.  My mother told me that the days would go faster as I got older. I couldn’t understand. They’d only be 23 hours?? Huh??

Now that I’m even older than my mother was when she told me that (mwrrh), I get it. I’ve gotten it for a long time, but…it’s starting to feel like that ride where you stand in the big drum, and it spins faster and faster and the centrifugal force sucks you back against the wall and the floor drops away and you just stick there and are helpless to move or stop it or even turn your head to look away.

I understand that it’s all about relativity and perception, but…perception is everything and I think the days really *are* only like 22 hours now. I can’t keep up. I can’t catch up. I’m trying to notice and enjoy the good moments but they go by so fast.

 

 

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6 thoughts on “And the sixth day seemed like a week and a half.

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