When We Arrive

Where has time gone—I’m not seriously asking this question for an answer, but I write this as I feel like it is a reoccurring theme in my life. My 7 year old asks me why time is always moving so quickly and while I tell him to focus on the moment and enjoy it, I marvel as his insight at such a young age. As a child I remember being impatient to be older, to experience life. Now I am and I want it to slow down. What I really want to tell my son is I understand him and it is only going to move faster but I don’t think this admission helps any.

I hurt my foot a couple weeks or so ago and have since spent time limping around. Like others from my generation, I researched this foot issue on a plethora of websites and found it most closely resembled plantar fasciitis in description. And when I further researched plantar fasciitis, I found an article jokingly referencing the start of old age. This would be funny, only I just recently celebrated a birthday and my feelings of time flying only compounded the matter—somehow I’ve found myself in a time machine, speeding through time only to have occasional moments of clarity where I ask myself where the time went.

I imagine at some point or other we all step into this time machine. There is no other recourse in this life, despite the contrived efforts of creams and tonics or even the natural influence of diet and exercise. The clock ticks day in and day out. Either way, we will get where we are going. We may not be able to control that but we can control how we get there and who we want to be when we arrive.

Happy writing this week!