Dear Element of Time,
I’m not ready.
For it to be almost the middle of September, 2010, when it just seems like the turn of the new century happened a couple of weeks ago. For it to be Spring when I hardly remember living through the Autumn of this year. For the children to be on the final school holidays in a few days, when Easter 2010 hopped by with the speed of chocolate eggs disappearing.
I’m unprepared. To be another year older. To have wasted a year where I haven’t really evolved that much. To face the fact that time is of the essence, so it better be used carefully. Wisely. Time doesn’t seem to be giving me much wisdom at the moment. It’s fleeting. Seconds are disappearing, and I can’t capture them, to consider or even contemplate what they might mean. Where they might be going …
I’m ill-prepared. For things like Christmas, when it only seemed a week ago I was cleaning the entire house for the last commercial, forced-upon event. For the Summer when the grass has only just greened in appreciation for the best rain we’ve had in years. For the fact that I’m one day closer to being older. Dimmer. Less able. More grey. Less sprightly.
I’m not ready. For that. For watching my family age. For worrying about the issues associated with having teens, young adults. For my own parents to get much older. For the time to spin so rapidly beyond our reach, that we haven’t realized it was there — now gone — until another month passes, we wake up and it dawns on us that 2010 is over.
Please wait. Slow down, let me breathe. Let up. Allow us to blink and stare and tread slowly. Wait for me to catch up to September. I still seem to be living somewhere between March and April of this year. Did I close my eyes for too long and awaken six months down the track? Did I take May and June for granted, wishing for daylight savings to come back, so those weeks deserted me, feeling unvalued? Is it really three years since Lea got really sick?
Father time? I’m not prepared for you to leave me in your wake. I’m not ready for you to dictate the pace, close another day on things I have to do, hold me in contempt for taking you for granted. So I better bloody wake up. Otherwise the sun will set on another day and I won’t know where I am going. Closer to the day you decide my time is up.
And so we try to live every second.