Time

My summers as a kid seemed to be endless. The days stretched long into the evening after the sun went down. The neighborhood  was full of parents on aluminum webbed beach chairs smoking cigarettes and drinking a beer and kids engaged in games of stoop ball and hopscotch on boards designed on concrete with colored chalk. The biggest decision of the day was whether to ask for ice cream from Mr. Softee, Good Humor or the Bungalow Bar truck that stopped on our block. Summer, even in the city, moved slowly and that was a good thing.

Things change and with it so does how fast time slips away. It is August 2 and the summer of 2010  is waning quickly. We are at that point where I know in the blink of an eye, the leaves will start to change color, the air will get cooler and I will feel sad to let go.

It is also exactly two years to the  day since I held a corporate job.  Two years since I made a conscious decision to create something new and different in my life. Two years since I woke to an alarm and raced about my morning to head downtown to the office.

One of the most difficult things in my transition has been the speed with which things manifest. I was in a fast paced sale in which you had a lot of control on the end result. That is not true of the direction I've chosen. The business of writing and selling stories is not a fast one, nor is building and growing a coaching practice.

And that is the great irony of today's blog. At the same time I want to slow the end of summer, to bask in  each ray of sunshine, I  want to rush time and speed up the selling of my novel.

Maybe that is also the lesson. To savor each moment no matter what. We can't delay the changing of the seasons, nor can we speed up things before their time. We can only do the work, drive the truck in the direction we want to go, stop for an ice cream on occasion and remember to enjoy the journey.