One moment, it's spring...the next autumn.
Time ... I remember my son asking, "Your minutes or my minutes?"
"What are you talking about. All minutes are the same," I said.
He shook his head. "No, they're not. When you tell me you'll be with me in a minute. Those are the long minutes. When you tell me I have five minutes before it's time for bed. Those are short minutes."
He of course was right... not all minutes are the same, but I try to enjoy them all.