I’ve been thinking about time a lot lately. I’m typing this furiously at the end of a long Tuesday, when I really probably should have managed my time better to get this sent earlier in the day.
Reminders of how I’ve been too early or too late in hitting personal milestones have bubbled up all over the place this past week. I keep thinking about how the risk I took in 2008 (leaving Atlanta to go campaigning) was a matter of extremely rare impeccable timing, a perfect moment that could only have happened then and that completely transformed my life.
I’ve got a rough draft of a longer, more involved essay on time that I wanted to get polished up and ready to send tonight, but the harder I worked to get it done before midnight the more it fought back. So I’ll have to send it out later, some other time.
And on the theme of bad timing, I’m going on vacation, which means next week’s 12 is going to be a day late, sent on Wednesday instead of Tuesday.
I’ll leave you with this, from one of the best movies ever about memory, relationships and timing.