Errors of time, and grateful corrections

Has anyone noticed? It’s December. December 2^nd, if we want to get all technical.

This fact is revelatory because I have somehow managed to skip completely over December 1^st.

In my spanky new journal—The Gratitude Sidekick Journal, if you must know—I have been putting the wrong dates on each entry for days. This morning I happily wrote 12/01/19, then proceeded to fill in my little blanks. ‘Ah, December at last. *wistful sigh*’ I looked lovingly out my window at the glowing cover of snow in the darkness, and remembered how grateful I am for the snow. How thankful that the dull earth has been properly blanketed, tucked in for the winter, safe and sound. I am thrilled that we had a white Thanksgiving weekend, and even more thrilled that things are looking good for a white up-and-coming Christmas.

‘Twasn’t until I sat down to m’blog that I looked at the conveniently placed date and time stamp at the bottom of my laptop screen. 12/02/2019. Hmm.

Wait.

What the hell?

Where did December 1^st go?

I lost it, that’s where. I’ve been on autopilot, and I done lost it.

Sunshine is breaking through the trees this morning, and I am once again reminded how time consistently gets away from me. We’ve had days of snow and blowing around here, and I somehow allowed the droning cloud cover to completely consume the days. It is the change, the parting of the skies to reveal the blue and make way for the sun, that startles me awake.

OK, the damned computer clock was instrumental as well, but the pictures and the gratitude happened well before I opened the laptop, so cut me some slack. The clock was more of a confirmation. The nodding head of your friend who patiently listens as you pour out the startling truth of some major breakthrough in your life—they’ve been watching, they know, and they’re so proud that you’ve finally caught up.

So the sun is out there, breaking through the crisp ten-degree morning, asking me to take notice, to wake up. The computer is faithfully reminding me that indeed, I’ve been a bit lost to myself. And the snow is sparkling and fresh, begging to be noticed through December’s eyes.

The fire is still crackling loudly on the hearth, but it’s not begging me to stay put, it’s telling me to get out there and enjoy its great⁴⁹⁶ grandfather, the sun. It’ll be waiting, in all its warmth and glory, when I get back.

Time to wake up. Time to pay attention, before 2019 has passed completely away.

Here comes the sun,
KJ