a number

The days get shorter.
Or maybe my to do list grows longer.
But either way time seems diminished, fleeting, evasive.

I am five again,
Staring at the board for Chutes & Ladders,
Counting, Staring, Memorizing,
Desperately trying to learn my way to 100.

My hairs are numbered,
as are my days.
Do I shift my list to fit everything in?
Or do I simply throw the list away?

I'm reaching the crease in the board.
You know, that halfway point that makes you think you might reach the top.
Of course, there's all those chutes that send you hurtling downward, forcing you to stay in the game longer.
But there's also the shorter ladders, enabling you to cut the game short.

The roll of the dice, the squares where we stop, the things beyond our control.
But will I cheat? What color peg will I be? Will I pout if I lose?
Those are the things that truly impact me.
Those are the choices I can actually determine.

All the rest is just up and down.
And learning to count the numbers.