31 December, and 2019 totters on its last legs.
A wilted flower that is about to be chucked out of the vase.
Seriously, another year gone? ( another decade if you want to take the macro view ).
I may have figured out a few things in my life, but not where time goes. Probably fallen down the back of the couch or stashed in a shoebox somewhere…
All I know is that is once it’s been used up, you don’t get it back.
The quantity of time we had this year, if you got to the end of it (RIP to those I knew that didn’t) – is exactly the same for each of us.
The quality of it is an entirely different matter.
Good, bad, indifferent.
Productive or wasteful.
Exultant, Calm, Boring, Unhappy, Tragic.
Was love present?
And, did we actually learn anything new in the 365 days allotted to us this year? About ourselves, others, and the world around us?
Did we make any sort of difference ? (man, I hate that question but it does run the ruler of significance over what you do).
What, exactly, once the churn and froth has subsided, got left behind in our wake?