I’ll have another installment of my novel probably on Saturday, but because my posting has been a bit sporadic this week I wanted to put something up. I’d love for it to be something quick, pithy and deep, but I’ll probably just end up with one out of three.

So, “sometimes they fall”…am I talking about our heroes? Our stock values? Those really freaky clowns who walk around on stilt legs?

Nah.

I mean the balls.

Sometimes the balls fall. Or, rather, we drop them. And “sometimes” is probably an understatment for many of us.

The older I get, it seems the more I have to juggle and less free time to do so. With so many balls in the air, something is bound to fall. Hell, just this week I’ve dropped at least one major ball and God knows how many medium-priority ones.

We need to accept this in ourselves and we need to be ready to forgive it in others. Gravity wins out, in reality and in the metaphorical ball-juggling world we all live in. We just need to do the best we can, to keep as many balls in the air as we can, as long as we can.

And try to make sure that when they do fall, no one gets hit on the head or slips on one of the damn things.