Where do the years go?

Thirty years ago fate and my job put me in NYC December 8th, 1980, on the night John Lennon was murdered. I watched with a college room mate the lighting of the Rockefeller tree and the skaters in the plaza. we had cocktails at the top of the Rockefeller, parted ways, and I started walking back to the upper west side company apartment when I heard someone running up Central Park West, shout "John Lennon has been shot."  He was dead by the time I walked the ten blocks to the Dakota Apartments. I spent that evening across the street from the Dakota with many tearful mourners. It was so quiet, except for the sound of John's music softly playing, and sobs from the crowd. I stopped at a market nearby and bought a bouquet of roses to place at the gate. By dawn, the flowers were mounded twelve feet tall. Seems like yesterday. Where do thirty years go? Happy Christmas, John. Happy Christmas Yoko.