It could be the constant rain today.
Or because last week my son started junior kindergarten. Or that the week before that my daughter turned 10 years old.
Or it could even be because Hubby turns 40 this month. Or that in the month afterwards, I turn 41.
Time is slipping away on me. And for whatever the reason, it’s weighing on me heavily these days.
It’s as if I feel the minutes ticking away more now. The time I should or could or must spend with my children while they are still children. The time I should or could or must spend building my career into a passion before it’s too late. The time I should or could or must spend getting fit so that I don’t let my health fade away on me.
We’ve all read the books or the wise words said on deathbeds. None of them profess that you should take more time to ensure your bills and household paperwork are in order. That your children wear clean clothes and practice proper manners at the table. That you are diligent in getting to work and getting your work done so that there is a flow of money for a mortgage. Or, dare I say it, that you devote time to navel gazing on a self-titled web blog.
I’m not looking for answers here. I don’t actually believe there are any. Or, at least, not easy ones.
I just wanted to share how I’m feeling. About time.