The Days Are Getting Shorter

Sometimes I wish I were a smoker. Not for the nicotine addiction or the health problems or the money sink that cigarettes are. Only because it would give me a reason to spend a little more time outside. Standing on my balcony is nice, but without a reason to be there, it only lasts so long before I begin to question why I'm on the balcony and go back inside.

The cool breeze is a sure sign that Summer is coming to an end. It's sunny today, but how long will that last? How long before that cool breeze becomes a freezing wind, and before the falling leaves become falling rain?

I could take advantage of the weather. I could take a walk, or go for a leisurely bike ride. But I won't. I'd have no destination and no goal and no company, and I wouldn't be satisfied.

Growing up in small town Cold Lake had certain advantages. On days like these I could cruise down to the Marina, buy an ice cream cone, and sit on the breakwater watching the boats and the waves. I could relax and revel in the fact that it's a lazy sunday, and not have any regrets.

But here in the city there's concrete and traffic and people everywhere. It's harder to sit and relax and just enjoy the day when everything around you is in constant motion. I feel like I should be busy doing something. I feel like if I'm not actively engaged in some sort of activity that somehow I'm wasting time.

I have a personal mantra for days like these:
"Sometimes you need to stop reading the wind and just sail on the current."
It's the kind of thing I have to remind myself sometimes.
(It's also clearly influenced by my father.)

I go home every christmas, but it's been a number of years since I last saw Cold Lake in the warmer months. I think I'm going to save some vacation days up, and plan to make a trip home in the spring for a week. I'll see my parents, play my piano, visit with my aunts and uncles and cousins. I'll spend some time with some old friends.

I'll sit outside in the sun on the breakwater and eat ice cream and watch the waves.

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