Wednesday.

Wednesday.

In summer, the lack of responsibility cuts my anchor to the calendar and days blend together in a blurry, warm, campfire haze.  I like that life, borderless and loose.  It makes time move in a different sort of way, neither fast nor slow; time is just as an unimportant bit of information I rarely notice.  It could flow in almost any direction if it wanted to.

Then summer ends and I pin the new calendar to my bullentin board and begin counting the days until the weekend, weeks until holidays, months until next summer.  Wishing life away, one might say, but it isn't exactly like that.  It is just a heightened awareness of time and how responsibilities fit into time, and deadlines and paycheques and appointments and meetings.  Places I am meant to be, times I am meant to arrive and leave to avoid missing the next commitment.

The thing I miss more than the easy flow of time is the light.  I miss the early morning light that makes waking so natural and easy.  And I miss the late evening light that makes me want to stay outside, that makes it easy to sacrifice sleep for more conversation and one more drink.


*