The Last Week of the Year

12/27/2005

The last week of the year is my favorite space in time. Quiet, it is, with the hush of waiting. Waiting for the new, the new time...

Time- it sends us scurrying.
And it pokes along.

Time rules.
Or is a ruler.

This is the memory I pull out each year during this last week, this time, this pause in the proceedings:

Last year I was thinking, a new year awaits. Brand new, tender like fresh young garden lettuce, awaiting the first nibble.

A whole year - it's too big a parcel. We'll not get to the end, surely. So many days and hours. So many minutes to fill.

Three hundred sixty something sunrises.

A thousand or more cups of morning coffee.

Walks in the moonlight- many. Memories made- more than many. Birthdays, only one each.

A year full of stories and wars, music and mayhem. Bags of baggage left aside. Old habits we wish gone.

A new year coming.

And it wasn't so long ago that this Year of our Lord Two Thousand Something began anew. So big to see. So full of promise. And now nearly gone. With a new one coming. Soon.