Once they were magical With the smell of homemade buttermilk biscuits and the sound of the television and the clatter of dishes. They lasted forever, and ever, until it was time for dad to take me to the mall and buy me a toy and a book. It was afternoon and I slept well.
Books are much of my time now. Mornings come quickly, as does most time now. There is a quickening that makes me yearn for when pagers were still common and 56k was your way to Y2K, babe.
A lot has happened between now and that time then. Some of it I wish I could forget. So now I sit and drink my coffee.
Inwhichtheauthormustcontendwithadayandahalfoftunningthoughtslikesteamturbinesonfullpowerspinning,thehighpitchedhumofthoughtsanddaydreamsrunningthroughhisheaduntil the momentum slows and h e h a s t o