Time was. That time no longer is.
“You can do better. You know you can.” This had been his father’s frequent refrain.
Yeah, probably, he thought. But there’ll be time for that. I’ll get it all together, I will.
Then, one day, he closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, his father was gone.
But yeah, the days keep coming. And no one tells him anymore that he can do better.
Because no one else believes it.
“He who gathers in summer is a wise son;
He who sleeps in harvest is a son who causes shame.”