The Julian calendar. That antiquated thing? Was it so imprecise? Is it so outmoded? It is reckoned that its faults caused our horological measurements to be incorrect by about three days every four centuries. But no calendar is precise. We divide up time as best we can and then continue to tell our stories, filling the hours while the world spins off through the solar system. I hear the Julian calendar is still used by the Berber people of North Africa, and on Mount Athos, and maybe by occasional journalists who have not forgotten the fables of yesteryear – or yesterday.
To have your arms around me again. Your arm around my shoulders, resting there a moment. So many things come to mind. The times we have embraced and all of the reasons. Yes, love. Of course, love. We do love. That arm of support. The arm that draws me near, into your reach, to your steady, solid body. Your arm over me, so you can guide me, move me, show me the way. Your arm pulling me in your direction. The arm that means ‘well done’. The arm with which you say ‘Brother, I will always be older than you’.