I read an article years ago (it had to be in the New Yorker) about time speeding up as you get older. It has to do with the lack of 'new' experiences. You are dulled to your routine, and the days begin to pile up. They turn into months. Years roll by.
Time living in condo that I bought on my own: 5 years in April.
Nephew's age on his next birthday, coming up in March: 5.
Niece, in July, will be: Age 7 (I originally wrote 6. She's already 6. See what I mean? I can't even keep track...)
Kurt Cobain would have been 45 this year. The same age my husband will turn in July.
I will be married two months (ok, so this is a 'small' milestone) on March 3rd.
In August, I will have been at my current job for (wait for it): Fourteen fun-filled years.
Also in August, I will celebrate the last birthday of this decade of Thirties. (insert whiplash here).
September: 2 years of amazing togetherness for Mike and I.
On to friends:
I met L. in high school, where I graduated in 1992. (there was still a grade 13 then).
So, I've been friends with her since 1990. Twenty-two years.
A. and I worked together in our early twenties. Let's say seventeen years. Same with N. and J.
Other N.--we're working on (I think) about thirteen years.
L. and T., ten.
Speaking of all those wonderful friends, I met most of them at a crazy steakhouse where I was first a bus-girl, then a cocktail server, then a dining room server, and then a floor assistant--all while going to school and then working full-time. All in I worked at this restaurant, in two different locations, for over fifteen years.
8 months, almost 9, since I last heard my Dad speak. His last email to me was June 1st, replying to one of mine, with the subject line: "love you". It was originally an email to his doctor, with a question, that was forwarded to me, and I added the subject line in at the end, so it was the first thing he would see.
Started this blog in April, 2009, and so far I'm up to 268 entries. I claim to have no time to get anything done, but somehow I do this, whenever I can. Instead of sleeping sometimes, you will find me here. Getting it out of my head and onto a screen, trying to make sense of it all.
My "little" sister will be thirty-seven tomorrow.
On March 1st, my mom will move out of the house we all moved into just after Christmas in 1988. When I was fifteen. I only lived there for about five years, but I've been driving to Ajax to visit my parents for almost eighteen years. As of March 1st, my mom will officially become a Torontonian again, and I won't have to drive 40 plus km to see her. She will be a streetcar ride away, a short 7 or 8 k run away.
So I ask again..where does it go? I really want to know....