Why Does 6 P.M. Feel So Late in November?
The clocks change, the sun sets early, and 6 p.m. suddenly feels like bedtime. Here’s what I’m thinking about trying this winter.
The clocks change, the sun sets early, and 6 p.m. suddenly feels like bedtime. Here’s what I’m thinking about trying this winter.
I’ve spent most of my life thinking I couldn’t stand sitting still. But some of my favorite memories involve doing exactly that. At 56, I’m beginning to understand the difference.
A Sunday walk past a playground made me question what I call my own time, and how much of it I really give to the people beside me.
A rare night under the northern lights in Georgia reminded me that I still know what wonder feels like. The harder part is figuring out what to do with all the ordinary days in between.
After more than forty years of working, I’ve started wondering why we introduce ourselves by our jobs instead of the lives we’re actually living.
I can have hours left on a Sunday evening and still feel like the day is over. When did I start giving my workweek so much of my life?
I spend my weekdays waiting for Friday and my weekends worrying about Monday. But one Tuesday afternoon with my grandsons showed me something different.
Sunday is supposed to be a day off, but the thought of Monday morning hangs over nearly the whole day. I’m starting to realize how much of my weekend I give away before the workweek even begins.
We hadn’t even reached the beach when I started planning the trip home. I’m trying to understand why my thoughts keep moving ahead, even when I’m somewhere I want to be.
For years, I treated Monday through Thursday as something to get through. I was not in a crisis. I had simply gotten used to waiting for my real life to begin.