December First

The leaves have fallen. Yellow and brown, they are all over the lawn.

It's December 1st, and the leaves have fallen, and the sun glints in a cold-looking autumn sky thru the barren branches of the elms and oaks leaving stripes of light on my desk.

December 1st. My heavens, how did it get to be December 1st already? Summer has just passed. Mars was only recently ablaze in the evening sky. The Red Oak leaves never turned red. How is it already winter time!?

We know that time speeds up as we get more years under our belts. It must be an "everything is relative" kind of thing, a question of percentages. The more years you've logged, the smaller is one day as a percentage of your total lifetime. So the more years you've logged, the less significant is one day.

The days scream by, faster and faster in an increasing blur. I wonder, then, how fast a day must pass for my grandmother, her eyes closed most of the time, her mind turned inward, oblivious to the passing of time which must pass so fast that night is day and day is night and time has no meaning.

And before you know it, December 1st has arrived.

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