by | May 13, 2023 | Picking up the Pieces

You’d think that in places where rain is more norm than exception, everyone would choose to always be prepared. But nobody carries an umbrella in Eugene and nobody keeps pace with time as it rushes by and stands still at the same time. How could we as it is we, not time, that changes pace. And we regret how youth is wasted on the young as it was wasted in our youth when we allowed our grains of sand to spiral down the hourglass, shifting and clawing into memories, dragging our childhoods away. But then we hardly noticed because time is an owl, a silent hunter who, satiated, perches deceptively wide-eyed and fluffy cheeked, calling the who who that echoes in our thoughts as they float as half-formed clouds, suggesting shapes that are easily blown away. But that is not a bad thing because we are houses shaped by the time that inhabits us, not constrained to what we might have once been designed to be, but expanding beyond our original facade, adding rooms, breaking walls, deepening foundations, reaching towards the heavens and, tentatively, opening our doors in welcome, hoping time won’t run out.

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