THE TWO MINUTE WRITING

I'm sitting down to write with no particular purpose, which is not really that unusual.

Most days I have no idea what I'm going to write when I place my hands on the keyboard.

I suspect that often shows.

Tonight, I'm setting a time limit.

I want to watch a little football, and fall asleep so my thoughts will have to gel in about about two minutes, or I'll simply hit delete and walk away. Two minutes seems like plenty.

Time is moving at a different pace for me lately. Hours in the hospital drag on and then seem unfilled. Days blend into each other. Moments on the phone with Amy seem alternately full of sustenance and then too short. Weekends disappear in a blink.

Tomorrow I will rearrange my schedule to be at the hospital again. I'll be there for Amy, but also to spend time in the surgical waiting room with dear friends whose daughter is now going to have to undergo a major operation. They will be scared and fearful.

I remember those times vividly. I should. I spent time in that same place only last week.

And I know that that time is easier when it's shared.

Hard time always is I suppose.