Absence of a clock

As the night’s darkness spills over twilight, washing the mountains deep wild blue silhouettes away into blackness, I sit alone. It’s quiet. The only sound is the faint hum of a fan in the other room. It’s nights like tonight that make me glad I don’t have a clock in my room. In this silence, the steady tick would only remind me that my days are know and won’t be number more or less than what I have been alotted. Each day is one less day to make things right with those I’ve wronged. Each night is one less night to be sure my family knows I love them before we go to bed. 

Each day I take one more step. A little further up the hill, collecting another experience, packing another small burden on my back, feeling the strength earned from collecting yesterdays burden. To where am I heading? I can’t be sure, but it draws me toward it nonetheless.