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Patterns
Patterns Endless.... Incessant. That was the word. Incessant. Never-ending, day after day, night after night. As sure as morning following the darkness, this was his lot. Never more than 8 hours sleep, up at the same time every day, in bed by the same time every night. The normal shift to different hours on weekends that mark the lives of so many weren't present in this man. Weekdays and weekend days were the same. Anyone reading this account would consider this life one most anyone would run from. But nothing could be farther from the truth. As Jeremiah stood and looked out the hole in the side of the grass wall at the azure sea, he contemplated his life of leisure - no work, all play, every day, incessant - a morning run, cold shower in the warming tropical sun and then - what? Breakfast. "God, I wish there were bagels!" |
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