I used to think I'd be the one standing still while the world around me spins. But I'm moving, too. I'm evolving and revolving and leaving the static in my wake. I have changed. The problem is timing; the problem is not falling off the wheel when the outer world turns in one direction around me while I'm twisting the opposite way in the middle.
But suddenly I'm looking forward to a new year. To the holidays that will come first, and then to old friends and long days and turning the page to a new set of months and a new set of living and being, and is it too trite to say loving?
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