This time tomorrow, it will be later than it is at this time today by one hour. Tonight (technically at 0200 Sunday) we spring ahead and “gain” daylight on the late afternoon part of our days.
It’s most obvious and noticeable tomorrow for an obvious reason and then it’s incremental through late in June cresting (so to speak) on Sunday, June 21st (which also happens to be Father’s Day (a note made possible by a grant from The Hallmark Card Company (motto: ‘What else can you do? Express your own emotions? That’ll be $5.95 plus tax.’))
Time is like the tide in a river, I guess, and it’s rising right now whereas in the autumn it’s ebbing. It, of course, still flows endlessly to the sea (ask King Canute about that and watch the typos, buddy) and one more or less hour is a subject I used to find fascinating as a callow youth.
Those days, and the memories of those days, are both faded and in most places bare so now, at nearly-sixty-three, I am always aware of the sound in my ears my own blood makes as it rushes through my veins.
More appropriately to my somewhat melancholy frame of mind when contemplating the remaining days and wondering how many more beginnings before the end, I find myself concentrating more on what I do with the hours and days I have, no matter how many or how few.
Perhaps you’ll find that perspective helpful as well.