Am not so much rattled as baffled: The years fly by. It’s already March 2014. When will it end? I deliberately didn’t put: Where will it end? We all know the location.
If they weren’t such a joy (to me) I’d advise against having children. If you don’t have them time deludes you. If you have them, or rather I did (one fine specimen), one minute you give birth, deliriously happy delving into motherhood, the next (22 years and a half later) your son lifts you off the floor like a feather. This is crazy stuff. And I am not exaggerating. It is crazy.
Luckily he is switched on. He already realizes the sieve that time is contained in. When I was his age I didn’t. The world was my oyster. Endless. A bit like the universe. Stretching into infinity. It only recently dawned on me that maybe this is not so. Anyway, why not squander what you haven’t got. Not that I’d mention this to the Angel. He doesn’t like it when his mother isn’t connected to reality. Yes, good old reality. Am trying to make friends with it. Bit hard going.