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June 23, 2004

When the Sun Doesn't Rise on Time

Although temperatures have risen, the clouds and rain and dreariness have persisted in claiming much of each week — at least in perception. The morning into day and day into night offer but blurs, shades of darkness. Still, shades of light remind that it isn't every day, and not forever.

I'm tired today. When time becomes a fog of expectations, one walks a bit farther at the tail end of the waking hours, hoping to sleep under clearer skies. Something resolved; something finished. It's a silly hope, in defiance of all experience. It would be better to sleep, following a schedule, and take tasks up in the morning, refreshed. Why is it such a difficult lesson to learn?

Perhaps because, on those too-rare mornings when the sun shines through and blue spreads across the sky, one glimpses what restful days will be like. In those evenings when the sparse clouds streak above, shades of orangish pink, like sherbet, the taste of memories not yet had heralds the future. Crisp, cool by contrast, although temperatures have risen.

Posted by Justin Katz at June 23, 2004 7:11 AM
Diary & Confession