What time is it?

    Lately I have felt like I am running out of time.  Not sure what part of time I am losing.  It seems as if I have enough time to sleep in, to eat, to walk, and to read in.  But I am a great procrastinator, a dawdler, I like to dilly-dally. The problem is, for me, what am I forgetting to do? I do the breathing, check. I always seem to wake up. Score a big one for me. I am still mobile, able to walk, talk, and think in some manner.

    I have grown closer to my mortality. You see, I have been diagnosed with Parkinson's. I have discovered drugs are wonderful. By the magic of medication, I am nearly back to being normal. I am back in my kitchen on a daily basis. Cooking. I love cooking. The man, my husband loves eating. We have been the perfect match for over forty-two years.  It really is the simple things in life. 

    But back to the problem of what I am forgetting to do? I have several stories brewing, including a couple of novellas, maybe a novel. Perhaps, I am forgetting to get the work done. I get distracted. I am working on a book of poetry.  I am excited somewhat about it.  It could be depressing. It is depressing. It is glimpses of my life with Parkinson's. Particularly before the meds.  

    I am ever more aware of what days I have left. I am doing well. But it is a chronic condition. No turning back, no time outs, no re-dos. I have today.

On a good note. For now.

I have been accepted for two of my short stories. 

 http://purpletoga.com/2024/11/16/announcing-the-final-list-of-authors-for-rainbows-arent-just-for-leprechauns/, so far, anyway.