Twelve months in a year, twelve hours on a clock. Twelve has something to say about the passage of time. A long time ago, it was a number that signified completion and the signal of the end of one phase and the beginnings of another, guided by a greater understanding and wisdom - knowledge learned from life. It promises a sense of calm amidst whatever chaos and turbulence we might be faced with.
I moved here, to stay, in September of 1997. A lot has happened since then.
I arrived single, no children, lots of plans. Here I stand, nearly twelve years later, single again, a mother, a lot fewer plans. I can only believe that to be a good thing.
But I am planning on holding twelve to its promises.
1 comment:
In a twenty-four hour period, the second twelve hours usually brings with it a more alert disposition within ourselves - we're fully awake, and because of this - are able to help ensure its rightful place as the better half of the day. And so I think you are fully justified in expecting the next twelve years of this first "day" in France to live up to its promises. It’ll be good, but better yet, more peaceful, I believe.
PS - Sometimes I read something and wish I had thought of it - This first paragraph, like many of your writings, generated this reaction. Love the whole "Twelve has something to say about the passage of time" comment.
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