On Waiting, Warm Weather, and the Passing of Time

I’ve heard it practically all my life that time passes faster as you get older. January is already history, and I could swear it was only January 1 yesterday.

In my youth, I remember having to wait for a certain time, day, or month to arrive before this or that event. Back then, it felt like years before that day finally came. Waiting for something good to happen meant everything to me and my siblings. Anticipation had weight. It stretched time.

I mentioned in my last blog post that this year marks my 70th trip around the sun. Reaching the downhill side of life’s mountain arrived far faster than I ever imagined it would.

We’re planning another trip this year—one or two more National Parks. This time, we’ve decided to look closer to home. I’d head west again in a heartbeat, but my wife prefers less driving time, and that’s just fine with me.

We’re waiting for the warm months to arrive and will choose our destination before then. But this waiting for warm weather feels like it’s taking forever—almost the way it did when I was a kid.

And that? That’s a good thing.