Old People Are Often Impatient, But For

If You Are Very Lucky, You're Allowed To Be In Certain Places During Just The Right Season Of Your Life: By The Sea For The Summer When You're Seven Or Eight And Full Of The Absolute Need To Swim Until Dark And Exhaustion Close Their Hands Together, Cupping You In Between.

The Future Is Fastidious And Punctual. It Keeps Perfect Time And Arrives Everywhere On The Dot. In Contrast, Its Slacker Brother The Past Has No Use For Clocks Or Appointments. It Comes And Goes As It Pleases In Our Memory, Camping Out Wherever The Hell It Damn Well Wants To In There. Untrustworthy, Prone To Exaggeration, Biased- You Wouldn't Lend It Ten Cents, But It *sure* Can Be Charming And Seductive When It Feels Like It.

I Find You Write With One Person In Mind. Usually For Me That One Person Is My Wife, Because She's My Most Severe Critic And Understands Best What I'm Trying To Do.

The Keys That Unlock The Heart Are Made Of Funny Materials: A Disarming Phrase That Comes Out Of The Blue, Nowhere, A Certain Sexy Walk That Sends You Reeling, The Way Someone Hums When She Is Alone. My Father Said It Was The Way My Mother Danced With Him.

Old People Are Often Impatient, But For What?