A Time and a Place

There’s never enough time in the day, or the week. Or a lifetime. At the end of almost every day I hear myself say, “There’s just not enough time to get everything done.”

Our days (by ‘our’ I mean both men and women) are fleeting. I’m afraid of that morning when I’m in my th-th-thirties and I look in the mirror, and there’s nothing. I’m gone. I’m gone and I didn’t finish that long To-Do List.

Today I yelled at Vivian. I was so busy cleaning, baking, and dealing with Mikey, and she kept hollering for me to look at something on the T.V, or watch a particular scene from her show. I couldn’t keep pulling myself away and I just wanted QUIET. I wanted CALM, PEACE, and fucking QUIET. Because it’s not until everything is done that I can relax, but the trick is completing that “everything.” I’ve noticed that the “everything” has a sly way of multiplying itself, and increasing, and intensifying, and swelling into more and more and more, and never ending. To conquer the To-Do List is a monumental triumph. And to complete it while you’re still human – Evolution my friend.

Evo-fucking-lution.

Later, when I had a moment to relax, and write this blog, the guilt set in - the guilt of not spending enough time with my child (and children are the most important things). I suddenly remembered a very specific memory of my mother (and mothers are the most important things) . . .

I suppose the wise man would find balance amongst the chaos of strings pulling the frazzled man in opposing directions, and kudos to that motherfucker. There is power in finding that calm, peace, and quiet. Absolutely.