A Short Blog

• Lori Palminteri
• Uncategorized
• September 17, 2018

The days get shorter and the summer sun becomes a warm ghost of the past who kissed our skins tan.

That’s how the cycle always goes.  The seasons have always been bipolar.

A short hiatus from mood stabilizing meds is over.  The summer is the best (or safest?) time to do so.  Fall will turn into winter, winter will turn into wanting life to be shorter than the days.  The difference now that I’m back on is noticed in a short period of time.  From others, as much as from myself.  “You seem better.”  “I feel better.”  Even knowing that what’s inevitably coming won’t feel so short at all.

Warm weather shorts are shoved in a drawer, not for a long time but for a short time.  Make plans to escape the New York cold, because even a short break from frigid darkness is enough to keep you going.  Enough to look forward to.

Write a short joke.  Your favorite kind.  The kind without fat, and a misdirection.  Write a short story.  Have a short phone call with someone you haven’t seen in a long time.  Write a long letter.  The kind where you speak your truth, the kind where it’s impossible to make it short, because the words keep coming from your pen.

Pick up a short book.  Read half of it when you should be sleeping.  But no, get a shorts night sleep and go to work tired.

There’s a lot to get done, and the day feels too short.  There’s not enough time.  There’s never enough time.  God, how I wish the good times didn’t seem so short.

The year is almost over.  You lay in bed, thinking how the years seem shorter as you get older.  And today that feels like a bad thing.  It feels like a bad thing that time moves fast, and that we won’t have enough time together.  It’s a sad sentiment.  But that’s a better feeling than wanting life to be shorter.