What to Do

People say life is short, (Read: Take the wildest chances, go for it.) but maybe life is long. (Read: The chances come back.) Especially in goodbyes, he tells me. Goodbyes seem so hard. Goodbye forever, but when the next Hello blinks into life, and it's like no time has passed. Because life is long.

The older I get, the longer time feels, but the shorter each experience does. Like how driving to Grandma's house for Christmas was once an eternity requiring several books, a Discman, and maybe my eraser collection. And now, what do I do in an hour? Sometimes commute, sure, with nothing but ear buds.

I feel the "I'm not moving fast enough" slipping away, as it should. I'd like to replace it with, "Good for you. You moved."

Atlantic jumpin'. Summer 2015.