Might As Well Be Next Week

It started just the other day. 

The shadows are longer; there is a diffuse and sort of film noir quality to the late afternoons that hints at what passes for the change from Summer to Fall in Southern California.  Kids head back to school next week which always means cooler and quieter evenings in the neighborhood.  Mounds of Halloween candy fill an entire section at  Costco now and the Christmas doodads can't be far behind. 

Except for the realization that another year is nearly shot to hell, Fall is the absolute best time of year nearly everywhere.  Labor Day, not January 1, feels more like the beginning of a new year just as Memorial Day always seems more like the end.  Whatever the case, it all is moving faster and faster.  I swear I can feel the breeze of passing time hit my face like a gale force wind.

My brother tells me on the phone from Illinois, "I think mom has forgotten how a light switch works.  She unplugs the lamp in her room at the nursing home instead of turning it off--same goes for the TV."  I find myself wondering how the coming change of season looks to her.  Does it register,  or is it just more shadows to contend with as she fades into dementia?

I start to make a mental note of all the plug in appliances we have around the house.  Let's see...bread maker, ice cream freezer, electric carving knife, can opener, (no...haven't seen that one for years).  I can't remember the last time any of these were plugged in except the carving knife.  It gets a workout every Thanksgiving.  Maybe mom is on to something.  I should just unplug everything.  The clocks might be a problem, but there is always a wristwatch handy.  Who needs to know what time it is anyway?  It's slipping through our fingers too rapidly as it is.

What time is sundown today?  I should be reserving a West facing corner of the backyard as my observation outpost.  After all, I am the vice president of sunsets for the Pacific time zone and the sun is not allowed to set until I give it the okay. 

If you're reading this in the Midwest and find that it is already pitch black outside, mom may have pulled the plug a little early.