There never seems to be enough.
Not enough to really hold someone,
Not enough to share stories, memories and laughter.
It doesn’t move at an acceptable speed.
It crawls by when waiting for a prognosis, a grade, a bud opening into a full blown bloom.
And yet,
It flies by.
You bring a warm little bundle home from the hospital,
And the next thing you know they are beginning a new journey in school.
Then they are finishing school and beginning a new journey entirely.
Their own. Away from you.
It tries to heal wounds and hearts.
It doesn’t always.
Never entirely.
It separates.
It divides.
It erases.
Supply doesn’t match demand.
There is not enough to accomplish everything we think we need to do.
It doesn’t care if we are miserable.
It is relentless.
Not even stopping when your world is broken into a million desperate pieces.
For all its flaws and aggravations,
At least we can say that it’s consistent.
In short supply.
Slow.
Fast.
But always considerately consistent.
