Our heat arrived before the calendar said it was summer. I suppose that’s always the way. It’s funny to think we can prepare for life’s arrivals. Maybe there is no ready before, but only a willing when. 

I have often wasted my time with questions of why. Or the blaming of who. I hope I’m spending less time on that. And more time on the now what? Some of my best creations have come from this. When why turns to wonder, words pour out on the page. Paint flows freely. And love breaks through all the cracks of mistiming. 

I don’t shake my fist at the sky’s clock. I simply go into the pool. It’s time.