Journal Entries From My Mom 5-20-87

Where does time fly? It evaporates like an ice chip in the blazing sun - or like an over-ripe dandelion head in the wake of a storm. Time escapes like a thief - stealing our dreams and phantasies. All those tomorrows - those wonderful golden times we believe are stored up "somewhere" just waiting for us to claim them. Only who has the password, the key, the claim check for this treasure. Did I misplace mine? Did I ever receive it? Where are the rainbows I have been saving for. How do I redeem my lifelong dreams? Where is the husband of my childhood fantasy. Is that green shuttered, rose covered cottage redeemed by a coupon or dream stamps? I suddenly see time compressed with an end in sight. Energy wanes as my ____ of dreams seems to be ____ endlessly out of sight on the horizon. Please stop ....