Where does life go when we use it up so quickly. I swear I was younger just yesterday but today I'm years older. Scattered and discarded carelessly, never missing it all as I worry it away. Rubbing the hours like beads on a rosary - all polished to a smooth sheen. And then I tell myself not to worry. That all will work out as well as it possibly can.
What was that minute ten minutes ago? The one where I sat in my chair thinking nothing thoughts about nothing and no one. The one where my brain drifted on an endless gray cloud of doubt. Wanton, decadent, wasted and lost minute. I would cherish having you back if I could. Would that I could like Croce wished, bottle you up and keep you. But it never works out that way.
Did I enjoy you? Did I drink you up? That is what I would do with all my minutes - like the songs tell us we should do. Live in this moment - this now - this forever gone and never to come back. Unbottled and raw.
And, all my minutes are not wasted. I know this for true and for sure. There have been too many happy minutes for me not to understand the waste of uncherished minutes. Happy minutes, contented minutes, lovely strings of beads strung together into happier hours.