Today, noticing it, I imagine it’s because I knew that I’d need to be pried out of a pathological sadness over lost time, and refocused on the present and on the time available – which I do need to be, today.
I’ve finally gotten to work on “making this place a home.” I’ll share the pictures with you as soon as I can get them into a cool flip-book video. That’s my aim, anyway :)
But… boy. I don’t know if it’s the stress of moving, or stumbling on old photos and journals, or just being tired, or being kind of lonely in this process, but I find myself between boxes having to stop and lean on counters to cry about the past a whole lot. Eh. I suppose it could be PMS. Or the rain and the beginning of fall.
Whatever. I just hate this thing where I obsess about lost time and lost opportunities and lost people and loss.
I’ve got a good 40 years left. Every ounce of energy spent on looking backward is energy I can’t use on living my life right now. 3 years ago