Waning Light

It’s that time of year, turn the clock back.  It gets dark earlier and the days are shorter and I don’t like it.  So I begin pondering the waxing of the light after the winter solstice.  When I was a boy I thought if I lived with Palm Trees it would never get dark. 

If a person ever gets to the mid-point of a life, I think I’m there.  It makes sense to me.  It is not a crisis, as in mid-life.  (That may not be true.)  It is letting go.  It is embracing a new direction.  I’m in between letting go and embracing.  It’s fascinating unless it’s not.  This mid-point dance will require learning some new moves, new steps.  Fuck it.

At least I still have my hair.   

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