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Time is not static... |
Chasing Time Time is not static even though atomic clocks say elsewise-- and they tock and tick each moment as a second-hand inexorably progresses forward. And, indeed, the world marches to the beat of those innumerable second hands sweeping ever forward; controlling our days, our times to work or sleep or eat. And yet, I insist that time is fluid. As in the fluid flooding along dry riverbeds or cascading down a monumental cliff after weeks of monsoon rain or a tsunami rushing miles inland. Because as time (hah!) eushes onward, onward into the breach-- the days and weeks fly by in mere seconds. I remember summers stretching out forever or weeks seemingly endless preparing for a child. I remember endless nghts of loving or walking the floors holding a screaming child. Time took its infinite time to creep by. Now it is April and I'd swear Christmas was last week. Seasons come and go so quickly that I wonder why I take down the tree at all. We fuss over the yard and gardens and in the time a bloom blossoms, this time, again, for cold and snow. Once there were weeks of greening times when the fist green tinge strengthened into the lush, when long nights shortened into days when bedtime was in the wee hours predawn. Now bedtime is caught. Is 8 o'clock too early when he's nodding off at the computer? Three years ago is both forever and yesterday. A 'long, long time ago' no longer means a hundred years but ten or fifteen. Time surges and we scurry to keep up. hubby still talks of high school days and adventures as if they just happened rather than fifty years ago and a reunion looms. How can we possibly have four great-grandchildren? I'm not old enough to have four great-grandchildren! Or have important, life-changing events be decades ago. I refuse to accept that we might have but ten or twelve years left, that the vast majority of our lifetime is in our shadow, that we aren't getting any younger in this onslaught of time. The mirror and my mind disagree. The Peter Pan in me refuses. A granddaughter says she can't wait until she 'grows up.' Until she's old enough to be and do all that she is nowhere near ready to do. Take your time, we tell her. You have all the time in the world. Don't rush it. Sooner, or later, you'll wish you could stop it in its tracks and just lollygaggle or a bit. Float in limbo and just be. All to soon the kids are grown and the joints creak louder than the music when we dance. And yet. We dance. We go to bed before the sun sets. We catch the worms-- the wondrous moments, those sunrises, the us times as we do all we can to slow the flow of that sand falling in the hourglass of life. We smile and flip the glass over again as we have made a habit of missing the last few grains of sand cascading downwards. Perhaps it is that we appreciate time more now than we did in our youth when we were immortal and knew we'd live forever. |