This year I've been counting down to many things. Concerts. Holidays. Places to go, people to see. Every plan I make right now has a time attached to it or a deadline date.
Which given the circumstances is odd, because in reality what I want the least is for time to pass.
Six months from December is June. Six months from December is the ending of an era and a time when my resolve to stay smiling may break just a little.
And yet still I count down with the excitement of a child in a sweet shop. Could it be that in recognising the passage of time I am trying to grow accustomed to the situation occurring around me? Or is it just that time has more meaning when you know that it is finite?
