Another year passes by. We’re all standing here as the giant shadow of the second hand passes overhead. Waiting to see what another year will hold.
Is time an hour glass, accumulating moments and memories until the sand runs out?
Or a clock, going round and round without start or finish?
Or a calendar, moving in one direction with past pages discarded and forgotten?
I think of time as a road. It’s suitable for a journey, with interesting stops along the way and fellow travelers in accompaniment as parallel paths synchronize. The topography takes us across deserts, through forests and over mountains. Sometimes we have straight paths and smooth sailing; other times we push ahead slowly through the fog. But it’s a journey we’re compelled to take.
The mile markers, like New Year’s, have now lost most of their meaning. The race is not to the swift. But the minutes ticking away–intermittent stripes flashing by beneath our feet–bring an appreciation for the unchanging, the constant partners.
Hang on to the people around you.
