Two numbers.
One a year, the other a number of days.
Today.
The penultimate day of my 65th year.
One day until tomorrow.
I awaken in the middle of the night with my sinuses and remember, this is only Sunday, not yet.
I hear the voice of John Turner, my junior year English teacher, saying of Shakespeare's Macbeth, that anticipation is greater than realization. Perhaps.
Some scrambled fragments of thoughts mixed up with memories, with the sounds of a small pendulum clock penetrating the almost total stillness of this early hour - even the cats are sound asleep.
But not me. Drowsy, soon to return to bed and hopefully sleep.
But for just a few moments now . . .
words of poetry - memories of music - a taste of something not quite remembered . . . .
As this year approaches its end, I briefly find time slowing down.
Unfortunately, I also find my energy and drive also slowing down.
Most birthdays do not make that much difference. To be sure, yet another year has passed, so in theory I am closer to whatever my end may be.
Somehow this feels more like the end of a very long day, or perhaps a long work week.
There is a New York Times article about Bill Gates and how his money is driving the public discussion on education. Nice of the Times to notice, but I wrote about that several years ago. Should I write about it again, pointing at the article? Will it make any difference?
New instruction for the school year is now complete. On Monday I introduce their final projects. Then they will have to determine what they have learned. Then they will begin the real learning of metacognition.
Four weeks of school remain.
On Saturday evenings I often experience some mild depression as I am at my most remote from my students.
But it is early Sunday morning. I come closer to again being with them, for the first of those final four weeks, of which I will miss 9 of the remaining 20 days due to other commitments.
Each year at this time it becomes appropriate for me to look back, not merely because of the end of a year of life, but because it is near the end of another year of instruction. For 16 years now my life has been defined by my role as teacher.
But that too may be coming to an end.
I will return for at least one more year, but perhaps no more.
64 and a very large fraction 364/365
Less than one day left
I will sleep for another few hours
I will arise and write - morning is the best time, my mind is clear
this evening I will post the already written entry for Brothers and Sisters
until then - to Meeting for Worship with my wife, some household and yard tasks, some time to sit and reflect, some more time to listen to music that matters
completing this cycle of time, embedded in the larger pattern of life
knowing it is the last day of 365
it has been a decent year in some ways, a frustrating one in others
The Beatles once asked "Will you still love me when I'm 64?"
Leaves on the Current has answered that in the affirmative.
So I'm still here.
With the support of love, I can trust my own heart and soul, and be open to others.
One day left in this year of my life.
One more day for me to love.
One more day for me to unclench my own heart.
Praised be the existence of cats whose love can be unconditional
Blessed be the birds who greet each day with song - in a few hours they will welcome me to this day as well.
Thanks be to those willing to listen, to read, to share what I offer, to offer me of themselves.
It has been a good year in many ways.
Knowing that I think I can return to our bed.
See you in a few hours.