After grabbing one of those free calendar from the insurance office I hang them beside my working table. The type where you turn the page at the end of the month. As an avid, certified journal keeper keeping a handy calendar is a necessity. But finding the right form to fit what I need wasn’t easy. Bookstore sold ones either give me too much or too little room to write; too much/too little details to fill up. Others come in fashionable colors and prints, too pretty and nice that I feel like a little girl writing about silly things. To solve my problem I handwrote one.

Twenty days has passed when I put this one up. I was too busy merrymaking during christmas, thinking its too early to bother for next three hundred and sixty five days. Next year is a long coming, a lot of things are bound to happen which are beyond my doing. So therefore I wait for next year and just today twenty days has passed.

Some years before I only remember putting a calendar in September or October but then decides its useless, too late to bother. I would  let the remaining months and days slide  idly away  and surprisingly it never failed me, it left as quickly as it came. It was only seven in the morning when we had breakfast, washed dishes, made bed, then at five in the afternoon we are getting ready for bedtime because the sun goes down, the mountains gets dark at 4:30 in the afternoon.

At other times I realize my calendar never left march when it was almost the end of the year. My body never left spring while in the meantime its waiting for summer. And summer came and gone.

What’s in a calendar? Everybody follows the same one. We all start the race on the same date, given the same number of months and days in a year. A day rolling evenly, not one minute more or one minute less.

We presume we are running an even race where we  all end winners. There is no point in going the extra mile.  We are watching and waiting.

Because it is either too early, then we find out its too late. Then we cease doing our best.

We tell ourselves there is nothing we can do.  Three hundred sixty five days has gone by.


<a href=””>Marathon</a&gt;

One thought on “Marathon

  1. Pingback: Author Interview – BeaJay McNeice (AKA Bill McNeice) – Contemporary Fantasy Novels and Poetry Anthologies | toofulltowrite (I've started so I'll finish)

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