It seems to me half the stories we tell one another after extended absences — after a move or a long journey — all come down to a way to mark time. Sure, sometimes people compare themselves and bring about a bit of arrogance. But the most likely effect isn’t arrogance, but rather reverence for the change that has taken us. What I mean is that people try their best to show how the time passes by the record deal of one friend, the promotion of another, still another’s affair or infertility. Some people compare and feel respective shame or pride, but this is silly to the best among us.

The best among us simply weep with those who weep and laugh with those who laugh and let the stories mark the time. Mark time:

Sound off.

Hut, two, three, four.

Hut, coo, grieve, fire.