A blank page has been staring at me for a month waiting for me to do something, like the future laid out before me anticipating my next move, but it's still mostly blank except for a few scribbles that don't amount to much. With all the free time and open space I should be able to accomplish something, but I feel a little like Burgess Meredith in The Twilight Zone, filled with hope because there is time enough at last, then dashed by the realization that there is never enough time and there never will be; now is all we have and we cannot waste it. Staying up late and sleeping in after years of early to bed, early to rise, isn't a sin, I don't think. A weekend getaway, mid-week, makes a wonderful change of pace; planning a trip to paradise makes fun and stress-free dinner conversation. Feeling carefree isn't wasting time, is it? A lifetime of a well taught work ethic and pushing to do the right thing isn't easy to overcome. For all the small victories, the blank page keeps taunting me to do something now, to write down the words while I have time. Now is all I have. I must not waste it.
~Elise Skidmore ©2022