Editions: I Hope You Understand #14/25

When I was younger, a year felt like a decade. Summers were warm and stayed warm.
These days a year may pass in a day.
These days the summers are just a single scene in this film.

I feared once as I got older, years would pass in minutes.

But on a train ride home I noticed sunlight breach through between buildings in the distance. I noticed the mother and son sitting a few feet from me. I peaked at, through a window, a bird surfing on the wind, seemingly staying in place, maybe scanning the world below. And in a blink, it all froze. I remembered my breath, and my beating heart.

There are some days where I get home and collapse into my space, with my shoes still on. My eyes may shut and I'll dream of tomorrow. Other days the seconds move slowly like sap travelling down the bark of a tree.

I'm content now to become a moment older. Ah, there it is. Here I am.