Oh dear reader!
I lament the end of summer.
Sure it’s soon the season of the black and orange Jujubes.
And yes, I will not complain, it is quite wonderful to have so much black licorice, so readily available.
But as I drove through the campground yesterday the young, chaotic children were very noticeable by their absence.
The days are getting shorter my friends.
The sun grows weary and heavy in the west. Long ghostly shadows creep up earlier and earlier each evening soon to haunt all of our afternoons.
School is back in session.
Though I’ve not been a student full time for over thirty years, September, not January always feels like the beginning of the year.
And this year?
My daughter has begun university, my son the 11th grade.
Soon they’ll be finished with school and schooling.
It feels like I’m in the September of my life.
Sure there are many strong wonderful months left before the chaos of the winter freeze, but the shadows are growing longer around me.
Sure it’s been a great summer. Beautiful. I could have spent more time with my kids? Maybe. I could have spent more time making money? Definitely.
But where else did the time go?
Beach trips and bike rides?
No regrets other than the time I’ve spent scrolling through my shackles searching for dopamine deliverance.
But even that?
I won’t waste any more time with that bullshit by complaining about it…
It’s hard to stay guileless and resilient as we age.
And?
The black licorice of late life shows up more and more.
Poetry of sunsets, black licorice and aging?
They all seem to be acquired tastes.
