Time seems to move past quickly now that I have lived through so many years. When I was five, a year was a fifth of my life. Now a year is such a tiny slice of my life span it disappears before I realize where the time went. Anticipation was everything when I was younger. Winter crept into spring, then meandered into summer, and finally ambled into autumn. How I dreaded the thought of going back into a stuffy classroom. How I counted the days until the next school break. It felt like eons before my birthday. Ages passed until I was old enough to drive a car. Waiting is still hard for me but things I wish to happen occur before I’ve had much time to feel the delay of gratification or the clutch of anxiety.