A long time ago… is that what this year has become?  Already relegated to the land of the fable, where a review of its highs and lows won’t trigger a storm.  A place where we can look back fondly, either grateful that it’s come to an end or eager to tackle the next.

I used to wonder why time was traditionally represented by a man wielding a sickle and why when he was finally wise and forebearant, he was replaced by an inexperienced child.  It seems foolish to part with one’s wisdom, especially if it’s been hard-won.  Must we always start from scratch?

Maybe it’s reflective of our childlike trust in the certainty that all wrongs will be righted, and the mistakes of the previous year will be wiped clean.  Wouldn’t it be lovely if at the stroke of midnight, all sins were forgiven? 

The only snag is that the one who bestows forgiveness, the child, still clings to juvenile notions.  He hasn’t the capacity to understand, nor the patience to listen. He will ignore the plea of his elder and rush headlong into life, invariably making the same mistakes as his predecessor.  And only when it’s time for him to relinquish his job will he realize what the old man wanted from him.


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