Time, you move so strangely through my life. Tomorrow seems to never come and yesterday seems miles away, so that all we have ever is today.
But then I look at the scar on my firstborn's cheek, cut open by a surgeon's scalpel after they wheeled her away and find it impossible to believe the scab has already healed some ten years later.
Arranging pictures, I see my younger with her short curly golden hair and dimples -- contrast with the now toothless grin and flowing dark tresses and wonder where my baby went.
How can it be that I make preparations to walk across the stage marking the ?end? of a journey I only started weeks ago (or months, or wait, really - three whole years?)
Celebrating 15 years in this house, foundation laid before we said "I do", I realize I've lived in this spot longer than I've lived anywhere else in my life. And moved more.
Not the same person as when I marked any of these events, but changed how? In the blink of an eye? For that is how it seems, although in the moments of growth and the pains of labor - time stretches out eternal.
Time, a strange friend and subtle enemy -- but always my constant companion - can you stand still for just a moment? No? Well, then I'll journey with you I guess, wherever you take me next.
Oh, and it's terrifying sometimes, too, because the journey is all so new. And invigorating, because it's all so new.
ReplyDeleteI came across this poem the other day, and loved it, especially the last five lines. I thought you'd like it.
Last Night as I Lay Sleeping by Antonio Machado
Last night as I was sleeping I dreamt a marvelous illusion
that there was a spring breaking out in my heart.
I said, "Along what secret aqueduct are you coming to me
Oh water, water of a new life that I have never drunk."
Last night as I was sleeping I dreamt a marvelous illusion
that there was a beehive here in my heart.
And the golden bees were making white combs
and sweet honey from my old failures.
Last night as I was sleeping I dreamt a marvelous illusion
that there was a fiery sun here in my heart.
It was fiery because it gave warmth as if from a hearth
And it was sun because it gave light and brought tears to my eyes.
Last night as I was sleeping I dreamt a marvelous illusion
that there was God here in my heart.
God, is my soul asleep?
Have those beehives who labor by night stopped, and
the water wheel of thought, is it dry?
The cup's empty, wheeling out carrying only shadows?
No! My soul is not asleep! My soul is not asleep!
It neither sleeps nor dreams, but watches, its clear eyes open,
far off things, and listens, and listens
at the shores of the great silence.
It listens at the shores of the great silence.
xo