How much more life will I live before it’s time to change the head on my electric toothbrush again?
Time is visceral these days. I’m parsing out my life in an effort to make a day, a month, a year meaningful. Life-affirming. I like to think things are not just slipping by for me. No. I’m grabbing these moments.
But I’m not. I am rotating around the sun just like everyone else. So whether I chronicle that journey in a beautiful journal or sit on my couch eating Cheetos and watching reruns, the clock ticks the same.
I’m not afraid of time or dying. The weird bit lately is that I’m aware. Things, small things, pop as important. Followed by this urgency to make sure I remember something or even blog about my electric toothbrush.
It’s weird being so conscious of things. Life used to rush by in a whirl of have-to and stuff I thought would make a difference. Now that I’ve slowed down, now that I look at things and allow myself time to think, I’m a bit fixated on the hours that make up the day and the days that finish a year.
I wonder if I’ll be this way right up until I’m gone. Is this a permanent change, or will I hit another phase where I’ll be back to rushing and buzzing?
If I’m heading back to sweaty palms, I’d better enjoy this slower time. Maybe write some things down before I forget how everything looked in the slow of sunset.
When I was aware of the ticking of time.
My thoughts from the laundry room. Count Sheep.
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