A New Morning

It's strange how much different time becomes on the other side of college. For a child, the distance from Thanksgiving to Christmas is almost too much to bear. For a teenager, a whole year is a forever for which to wait for something. After college, a year can slip by almost unnoticed. Perhaps, to some degree, it has to do with the breadth of the goals that we set.

I bring this up because I decided, over the weekend, to regiment my days a bit more strictly. I've been slipping into an amorphous schedule that has been too conducive to procrastination. It wasn't until I smelled the air of 6:00 a.m., with dog on leash, that I realized just how long I've been gradually losing control. It was nice to see the sun so low, again, representing, it seemed, the new day that dawns in about three months:

I've got three months to get as far as possible toward fully supporting my family and procuring a house that is more than a way station. And even if my minimal goals cannot be met in that time, I've got to stop living in preparation for proximate success that never seems to come, even as years slip by.