I’m too busy enjoying life's ride to worry about how fast I’m going or how I am going to stop. The world is full of people like me, racing haphazardly past on only half-a-track.
When ride gets hectic and turbulent and the feverish pace begins to wear thin, little pieces of my world begin to chip off and fall down around me and when that happens, everybody ducks. It’s about then that I hit the brakes and skid into a slow, sidelong slide and a tumultuous stop. The end result is rarely good, but in most cases, the near miss has minimal aftershocks and I can take off again in a totally different direction.
I try to limit the incendiary casualties to direct relations and as family, they have learned to roll with the reckless.
Reality Bite:
If we’re all stretched so thin, shouldn’t some weight be dropping off somewhere?[1]
[1] Don’t know who said it, but dang, ain’t it true?
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