It is almost November as I write this post. If you are like most of the people I know, the thought of another calendar page turning makes you moan a little about the passage of time. My brilliant (and handsome) husband once explained it to me:

When you were ten years old, the time from one Christmas to another was one-tenth of your life. No wonder it seemed like forever. Now, the span between Christmases is only about one-fiftieth of your life. Relatively speaking, those days seem to fly.

What a helpful perspective. (I told you he was brilliant.)

Even knowing that, though, I still catch myself whining. Almost every day someone asks me for the correct date, and I inevitably answer with something like, “It’s the 26th of October if you can imagine. I don’t know where the month has gone.”

One morning after I made that statement, my friend Becky looked up from her checkbook and said, “Oh, yes, but wouldn’t you rather it be that way than to be thinking, ‘Will this day ever end?'”

I had a sudden flash of memories: Teething babies, stomach flu, and chemo pods to name a few.

Thanks for that perspective,Becky. And hello November. Bring it on!