Fifty

***When this was written, it was the 50th post, but after additions it got bumped up***

When I think of 50, I think of half way. Two quarters. Ten minutes until the hour's up. Is the glass 50% full or 50% empty? (either way, if you're selling the liquid you can sell the glass while you're at it, so you might as well be grateful for that. If you're not selling it, well looks like you've got nothing better to do than try to answer quixotic questions that are supposed to reveal the subconscous state of your mind). I think of a 50 Watt light bulb, shining forth like the truth, burning away the darkness. I think of the 1950s and I think of the Korean War and Eisenhower... I'm not sure if those are in the right time period but I also don't care. I think of 50 tacos on a silver platter, 50 stars on the US flag which stand for 50 states of union. I think of 50 miles until the road ends and I don't know where. I think of the atomic number of Tin and wonder if I'm like the tinman... no heart... I think of 50 people that I love and I struggle to finish the list, but I finish it anyway. Of 50 wrongs I've committed and 50 ways to fix them. Of 50 things to do before I die, and 50 years I've yet to live.

I think of 50 messages I've left for you and the 50 different ways you've taken them...

And as I sit here I'm thinking of 50 more.