A
man
I
knew
was
always
racing
impatiently
into
the
future.
If
we
met
for
a
drink
after
work,
the
first
thing
he
talked
about
was
where
we’d
go
for
dinner;
at
dinner,
he
rushed
through
dessert
to
get
to
a
movie;
at
the
movie,
he
was
on
his
feet
before
the
last
frame
faded.
And
in
the
car
on
the
way
home,
he
was
making
plans
for
the
next
day,
next
week,
next
year.
Never
did
he
live
in
here
and
now.
Consequently,
he
couldn’t
enjoy
life.
I’ve
come
to
appreciate
that
life
has
its
own
timetable.
It
takes
nine
or
ten
months
to
make
a
baby,
21
years
to
make
an
adult.
It
takes
a
long
time
to
become
a
good
violinist
or
downhill
skier.
It
also
takes
time
to
become
a
success
and
even
more
time
to
become
a
success
as
a
person.
Perhaps
the
last
thing
for
controlling
impatience
is
to
examine
your
own
contribution
to
it.
Are
you
unwilling
to
grant
children
time
to
learn,
or
slow
people
time
to
accomplish
a
task?
If
impatience