Don Burt, 1992
To say another year has gone by is an affront to what happens in a year of life. Even to measure life as a series of days isn’t quite right, but this has all been said before.
What life comes down to is taking a breath and feeling it come in, and knowing at the exhale that it was real, and still is. If the air brings a memory or conducts your movement inside of something that’s already moving, it has happened and always will be.
An old English teacher likes to ask: if it’s 11:59 p.m. today and the hand clicks midnight, what day is it? It’s always today.
This picture of my dad was taken today and every day. Holden Caulfield wants some things of our days to be frozen in time, to slow them down for close inspection. But even frozen things move. They move with us, no matter where they are.
I’m privileged to move through more than days.
