Thirty was a tricky age to be in, turning thirty-one didn’t make it that much easier.
But this piece really isn’t about age. It’s about the wild flurry of thoughts that buzz through my head the moment that alarm rings.
Should I get up to do my work out? *hit snooze*
Oh crap! !#!$!% It’s past six. I’ll get out and exercise tomorrow. I PROMISE!
%!^!&!*#($&%(%)^*%&$$)#*$)$! Am I the only one who’s in a hurry this morning?!?!?
Huh?!?! I thought that report was due two days from now?
Something’s wrong…need to call an emergency team meeting…
Seriously?!?! %!^!&!*#($&%(%)^*%&$$)#*$)$! Am I the only one who’s late for dinner?!?!?
This precious moment of silence, of hearing the voices in my head is bliss.
I could wish for more time to hear the walls echo but these days I settle for the fragmented minutes, sometimes seconds – to pause in wild and mild reflection.
When I turned thirty-one, I wished for balance; but it seems I have to check again when I turn thirty-two.
27 October 2014 | Photo: Mount Morgan, NH | Words: Cebu City