I have no idea where the past two months have gone. I am always vaguely aware that the older we get, the smaller a proportion of our life a month becomes. When we were five years old, a year felt infinite. But now, I’ve already made plans that lie six months ahead, and that time seems hardly a blip in the scheme of things. The years have become busy and blurred, and I often seem to find myself looking forward to a point several days or weeks or even months ahead. I’m trying vigilantly to stop this pattern, because it becomes too easy to wish life away trying to attain the next goal, experience the next milestone and arrive at the start of the next adventure. Life is now, and now is fantastic.
one perfect mess 