Routine

Another day passes with a soft whoosh like a lamppost outside a car window. My dad said this would happen, and with increasing speed as I got older and I guess he was right. Rather than a day spent as a unit enjoyed whole I spend my moments repeating moments just like the last: getting ready for school, the morning commute, work, work, work, the commute home, “the family dinner,” TV time, catch up time, and then my sore body pools out in my bed like lumpy pancake batter.