Right now, my thoughts are nine months ahead of me. I'm thinking about our vacation plans for the summer. Jackson, WY. Yellowstone. Grand Tetons. Midwestern boy playing cowboy for a week.
There's a tinge of worry, fraying at the edges of my dreams. Money. Soffits this spring, furnace this fall, wife looking for work - money is a worry. Not that we won't have it. No. The worry is that we won't spend it. That I will feel guilty with every dollar spent on frivolity. Just like the fear that my son will misbehave, it's probably misplaced.
Dammit, though. It doesn't do much to weaken my vision of what could be a wonderful vacation. As good as any we've had with or without the kids. Right now, I'm clocking time. My heart is nine months hence. Waiting.