Time is, as Doctor Who says, “Wibbly wobbly, timey wimey.” Long and impossible. So impossible that if you are 12-1 month away, you don’t even think about it. But that month before birthdays, Christmases, or graduations, it stretches out unbearably.
When I was in first grade, I learned the misery time could be and the breeze it was. We were to get new pencils every six weeks. They were those big green pencils. You know, the thick ones that made it easier to learn our letters and numbers. I watched the other kids. Some hardly used theirs. Yet they got a new pencil anyway. I found that wasteful, even as a seven-year-old. So I used mine a lot. I mastered the fonts before me. I erased a lot with that huge pinky-orange eraser. I drew everything I could to use up as much of the six weeks as I could. I was so proud when I showed the teacher my well-chewed tiny stub of a pencil and remembered the teacher telling me I used my implement well. It was a breeze, those six weeks. Now to start the long trek with the shiny new pencil.
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