There's this thing about being in the moment, and that's that the moment includes other moments. So I feel my feet flat on the floor, and the weight of my palms on either side of this Macbook, and I hear the airplane buzzing in the air outside, and some of that air wafts in past the fan and swirls across my face, and now a burp rises up my esophagus and comes forth in a modest brupp of expulsion, and I feel and note and concentrate on these parts of now. But other moments are also in this one. And moments, it turns out, I find, in my aging, do a tesser act. Time morphs. Distance in time ain't linear ruler regular math.
I folded the page back up, and hope it will do that trick on me again, agonizing tho it is.
Now me and the pup are gonna go to the car wash and one or two stores with dog stuff.