the age you’d be if you didn’t know how old you are
Some Tuesday along the continuum, we cease to say where we are going, and ask where we’re supposed to be. The house seems larger. The grocery bag smaller for the same dollar. And delay to Thursday has become a form of art.
What cracks may be in confidence are less confusion than hard knocks, filled with values and sepia memories. There is time to read, to walk not run. And finding ones path is less a concern than colouring-in the continuum alone.
( PTHS 1971 50th Reunion )
