Time. And again.

How is it that life passes by so quickly? Every day full of little odds and ends and errands, and suddenly, seven days have gone by. Or seven months. Or seven years.

Sometimes, we are able to escape from the fast blur of days long enough to do something wonderful, or meaningful, or powerful. And in those moments, we feel like all of our hard work was for a reason, and we are able to sit within time for a small moment and soak up the worth of who we are as human beings, of our purpose.

And then, of course, time starts up again. And we go to work and eat and go to sleep and go to work. We wash, rinse, repeat. But always, there is that waiting--the holding of breath--waiting for the next time when time will slow down long enough for us to enjoy it.

Well. I've gotta get back to work.