"the years shall run like rabbits / but all the clocks in the city begin to whir and chime: oh let not Time deceive you, / You cannot conquer Time.”
W.H. Auden
Years ago, as I sat at my bedroom window and watched January skies splinter apart and drop gasping breaths of snow onto my frozen world, I would long for the future and the sultry summer months of green and gold. My mom would always warn me, “don’t wish your life away.”
Even now, living consciously in the present moment is something I know I'm not very good at. Perhaps it's my idealistic side that's always so tempted to imagine a bigger and better future for myself, but I have a feeling it's due more to my impatience and ingratitude for the present. It's tough to remind myself that the only thing that exists is today, and it will never really be "tomorrow."
Oh, how to love today? How to be still in the anticipation and excitement of France without wishing away the days? I want this more than I've ever wanted anything!
Still. Four weeks.
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