I’m hiding in this little back room in the dark with sticky keys, some that are bare of their caps and some that don’t work at all. The computer is over eight years old; it’s earned its scars. But don’t we all.
September will be here in four days, and little will change with its arrival but the name of a season and a stretch of time. Drops in a bucket. September comes and goes several times over like a seed becomes a sprout becomes a tree on fast forward in retrospect. We race to our milestones and then wish we hadn’t. The bucket overflows overnight.
And I’m thinking of this only because I’m in my cave, knowingly cheating Time though unlike last September not purposely. It’s too early in the semester to burrow deeply into the crevice between last week and next. Tapping on capless keys in seclusion is good medicine tonight, and that’s good enough.