Today is proving to be a curious exercise in self-control. On Saturday afternoon we had a moderately fun time with the boys. There's a reason why I qualify it as moderately.
After dropping my son at school this morning I stopped for a spell with the mom of one of the boys in his class. We chatted about this and that, about the upcoming Memorial Day weekend, and the impending end of the school year. We were dancing around our individual concerns about our kids.
The War on Terror has fascinated me from its inception. Only today, however, my fascination took a different turn.
Last night I returned from a vacation — at least that's what people who were not with me called it.
Spring Haiku #1
Apple blossoms fall
and appear as pink snow on
the green grass of Spring
Air travel. It's come a long way.
I aplogized to my mother yesterday…well, really to my entire family. To my wife, my father, my mother, my sister, my kids, my relatives. Two days ago my boys and I arrived in Florida for a week-long stay with my parents. We haven't seen them in almost a year and a half, which is nother story, and this visit was long over-due. It feels so fitting, now, that I'm writing this outside, next to a pool, on a humid late-Spring early afternoon with the rumbling of thunder closing in on us.
As my wife and I were cleaning up after dinner last night, two of my dear friends called me. We were rushing a little bit, as we had eaten a little later than we had hoped, but the real surprise was that my friends were calling from the East Coast; it was 11:30 PM ET on a Tuesday night.
I'm lost. Yup. Lost. And I don't have the luxury of knowing that I'm now limited to 48 episodes in which to complete my narrative thread (the most recent knews about the "Lost" hoopla.)
As minutes meld into hours, hours arch into days, and days dissolve into weeks it's easy to lose sight of the joy of now.