I realize as the days wear down in 2012 that each year is the same length (leap year palaver aside) and yet the older I get the shorter each one seems. I dread the arrival of 2013 since part of me believes it will already be over by the early afternoon of New Year's Day.
I remember being a kid, barely, and thinking I might not be able to wait until I was 'old enough'- the for what, exactly, was never all that clear to me but whatever it was I was working on being old enough for was sure gonna be swell. You betcha.
Here I am, sixty plus years on and I know as a kid then I never knew anyone as old as I am now. I watch everyone else's children in the grocery, in the mall or walking (a little unsteadily for the very youngest still on the sidewalk), I want to tell them 'take your time! There's nothing to see here.' Except, they wouldn't believe me, and I wouldn't have either when I was their age and their parents will call the cops on some grey-haired weirdo bothering their promise and progeny.
That leaves me to be a prisoner of my past. I can't describe what the world was like when I was their age-so much of what made my world my world has disappeared that, in a way, it's a cruel irony that I should have outlived it instead of vice versa. I have some artifacts, some knick knacks and bric-a-brac from back in the day. I'm hoping some of them might be worth more than a thousand words as I'm already tired and still have all of today ahead of me.