and I feel different

Today, I awoke 25.

The morning was low-brow, ominous. I had a scatter of paperwork to finish for my application at Greenville Tech, including one choppy essay that my girlfriend was wise and kind enough to modify. It was the first birthday that I shrugged off as another work day, and rightly so. I had much to do. And now I feel it seeping in as the quickness of the day grinds itself into a bottlecap. This is your first quarter-century.

Thumbing through Lewis and clicking through blogs the past few days have reminded me that one era of life need not define a person. He chooses his course for the day. He rises one morning and throws his shoulders back, cradles his leaves of resume, and lives. Then he rises the next day, and lives, wiser and better. And the days turn another quarter and his realization that he probably won't see all four quarters.

I still love to write...with all it's mistakes and and nonsense, I love it.

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My birthday gift. a bowl of fine pasta and mushrooms, pants and socks.
All my family at one table. Grandma Reynolds under the light. My cousin becoming the 16th year I remember. One I can say I cherish. Four twenty-dollars. Making use of time again. Acknowledging God again: knowing this trip isn't over yet. A new door has opened on the dusty hallway: I'll be entering the ranks of the Greenville Tech Fine Art Faculty on Monday. I will teach......the clay.

Another quarter cometh.