All this week for some strange reason I have been obsessing with time. Which is a form of anxiety or worry I suppose you could say. Each day I swear to myself, “I am going to write a piece on time” but never seem to get to it for some reason.
What we worry about as individuals differs with each person. We can ill afford to fritter away our time on who is ignoring us or who isn’t, to coin a phrase, “Life is just too short.” Y’know what I mean?
Most of the people we worry about who are ignoring us, are in fact, not even paying attention to us anyway, so why bother? I often think to myself, “Why can’t THEY pick up a telephone and call ME for a change?”
But that is not happening.
There is a small portion of time I pine for in the quiet moments of the day, that time naturally being the missing years of my youth. The longing for but one more chance to perhaps return to that happier period of my life and do a better job of it. To stop and tie all the loose ends together, and give it all one last shot. A sincere prayer for just one more opportunity to make it right, and as always, “I promise Lord, I won’t blow it this time.” Which we all know is just not going to happen any time soon, or forever for that matter.
What is gone is gone.
The American Indian had an expression for time, they said, “Nothing lasts forever, except the rocks.” But even a rock will wear down eventually given enough time. A friend of mine recently commented that “he finished his dash project, and it only took him thirteen days to do it.” Indians in the Amazon don’t even have a word for time in their collective vocabulary.
Time. Little sands in the bottle, a memory or two, a quiet afternoon.
Closing my eyes, sitting back in my easy chair, and it isn’t all that hard to see the skinny blond headed kid at the pencil sharpener cranking away and looking out the window. I can smell the donuts in the shop, four in the morning, while rolling my newspapers. The husky laugh of Mary Dawson in the Balcony of the Canadian theater at the east end of main. Little mile-markers of time, etched in my mind and triggered by who know’s what?
Most of us cannot afford the luxury of just sitting back and whiling away the time, we are so busy starting a life we don’t have time for a life. We cannot sit back and watch the river flow, sit down in the grass and study the clouds, spend a summer night devoted to the Milky Way and its road of stars.
Life eats up our time.
Sadly, if given the remote possibility of doing it all over again, the majority of us would blow it. It is just our nature. It is nice however to think that this opportunity exists and that it could happen someday given enough time.