Six thousand four hundred and fifty eight days– is that a long time? Is it a short time? I think it is a long time. Miles lived 6,458 days, but it was not nearly enough.
My great aunt lived 33,262 days. My grandfather lived for 28,566 days and my grandmother (his wife) lived 19,814 days. My great, great, great, great grandfather lived 21,284 days.
As of today, I have lived 15,967 days. I have wasted a lot of them. I have not spent them the way perhaps I should have. I made decisions years ago that have determined how I spend my days today. I have accumulated many hours and days reading or writing. I have slept perhaps one third of those days. I wonder how many days I have spent in cars or in front of the tv or playing computer games or working? Too many.
I was just a person alone in the world for 9,068 of them, first a baby and then a boy and then a man. On my 9,069th day, I became a father. I was a father to a single son for 1,583 days and on the 1,584th day, I became the father of two sons. This lasted for 4,875 days, but it will never truly end. I will always have two sons.
A single day can seem like a long time. It can pass quickly. Sometimes I wake up to see the sun rise. I try to keep track of the moon and its phases. I try to appreciate the seasons as they exert themselves on the day. I have learned to embrace the winter and its cold dark days. I no longer think of winter as a time to rush through and get over with. There is a beauty in the emptiness of the landscape when the ground is cold and the plants have died and the animals are asleep underground or living far away where it is warmer. I have learned to enjoy the days, every day as much as I can and make the best of them day after day after day until it is impossible to do so anymore. It is easy to lose track of time sometimes. It is easy to lose track of what a day can mean and how much you can in 24 hours if you really put your mind to it.