A good friend once described his day as having been a long one. In response he was told that all days are the same length. I have been thinking about these words quite a bit recently.
For the next 10 ½ months, I will be engaging in the various mourning rituals as a way of dealing with the loss of my mom. The first month and a half has gone by slowly and I have little doubt that this will be true about the rest of the year as well.
As the school year is almost complete, my students are taking finals. My job is to proctor. This means that I have to sit in a room, for up to three hours, watching the students. No distractions are allowed. No reading, no talking on the phone and no texting.I have debated with my students who has a tougher time. They insist that they do, having to take the test. As I mindlessly monitor them, I am not so sure.
My favorite setting on the treadmill is the random one, where the treadmill rises and sinks in random patterns for a minute at a time. The higher it goes, the harder I have to work. I make it through each challenging portion by reminding myself that a minute on a hill is till only 60 seconds.
The year of mourning is no longer or shorter than any other year. At least that’s what I keep telling myself. The mind knows what it knows, but the heart sees what it will see.
PLEASE donate in my mom’s memory to help children with cancer: