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*insert melancholy mood music here*

For awhile I've been thinking about four. Somewhere there is a long meditative piece on the significance of four, and perhaps some day I will still write it. But to quote Aragorn, "It is not this day." Today I will try to deal with the anxiety attack, and the asthma attack that is keeping it company (apparently they've taken the "Do you have your ottering buddy?" axiom to heart).

So I will just note the following:

Four is an unlucky number in Chinese culture.
At the age of 4 children are sent to preschool, closing the infancy period of their lives.
In most schools, after grades 1-4 you move to a radically different educational model of multiple teachers for more than just gym, music, and art.
The conventional length for high school is four years.
The conventional length of a baccalaureate program is four years.

I'm sure there are other placemarkers that involve 4 having to do with development, growth, and all that comes with it.

Today, between 4 and 5 in the afternoon, we will each be getting home. We will get out of our cars and look towards the house, to the front door, under the porch roof. We will walk the blacktopped path, and up the stairs. As we do every day. Today it will be no harder, nor easier, than any other.


( 3 comments — Leave a comment )
Sep. 21st, 2012 01:56 pm (UTC)
Perhaps a (small) glass of whiskey tonight.
Sep. 21st, 2012 04:03 pm (UTC)
Perhaps. I am never quite clear about which is harder--the day he fell, or the day he died. In many respects, the 23rd feels like a coda to a symphony whose final movement ended on the 21st.

Perhaps bourbon tonight for me, and scotch on Sunday for him. Lord knows we have both.
Sep. 21st, 2012 07:39 pm (UTC)
Have some for me.
( 3 comments — Leave a comment )