To some, me included, it’s a compelling mystery as to where the time goes. Especially while standing at the intersection of 50+ and EmptyNest-hood.
I often asked myself: Is time moving faster, or am I moving slower? I really believe it’s a little of both. And I think I have finally figured it all out.
Here’s my theory:
When Cassidy and Julia were school age, there was so much activity and motion going on in our daily lives, that time crept along at a nice s-l-o-w pace.
January through March brought all kinds of episodic dramas — re-entry to school after the long winter’s nap that was CHRISTmas break, Oh, and the inevitable ugly influenza that would attack each winter, where even a half-ounce sip of water evoked copious amounts of vomit. And then March was always a kind of slow march into Spring, still bouts of cold weather and cloudiness overhead, but with the promise of Sprong on its way. Which meant Spring break and alll its tangential accoutrements; Do we go skiing, go to Newport/Disneyland, or do we stay home and go stir crazy?staypicking outhe the year was full of all kinds of benchmarkswe sort of jumped from one mini-event/super saga/episodic drama to the other.
Because like January
So that was then.
And this is now: