Back in college, at the Blue Hen University of Delaware, I used to enjoy reading on a little bench in the waning sun of autumn. There was a squirrel that would come visit me and I’d throw him a nut or whatever I had. I like to think it was the same squirrel every time, but who knows? The trees would whisper in the cool breezes, the students were wandering all around, oblivious to my bench, and it was a respite from the normal college life of binge drinking, Adderall cramming or trying to be cool. But I remember once, I had a strange day sitting there. Continue reading

Not So Fast

Sand falls through the hourglass in the incessant, inevitable march of our collective moments. The sand represents only the quantity of time. Memories provide the qualitative quotient expressing our tenuous grasp while drifting among the currents.  Nobody needs to be told, “Life is short.” Continue reading