Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about chunks of time. “How long do I have to live?” and “Where was I that many years ago?” and “At this stage of my life, a half century after graduating from high school, what did I think?” …and crap like that. The chunk that keeps coming up, though, is this one: 17 years ago we prepared to leave the snowy realms of upstate New York and head to North Carolina. A truly shit job and what should have been a wonderful company (and was for many others) had ended unceremoniously with a layoff. Less than three months later we were headed to what became the best dozen years or so of my working life, and ended with a pandemic and my retirement. Above, we’re about five minutes from leaving our home and never seeing it again. (I had to use the snow blower on the driveway that morning.)
all the voices in my head 
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