Thursday, March 22, 2012

The illusion of time

I think some people have a sense about time, maybe women more so than men just because of our cyclical nature, the ebb and flow of life rhythms. March days brought a sense of remembrance. Shane's dad died a year ago, and Friday I asked him if he remembered the date. Searching the archives here, I found it on March 18.

A year later, sunny days, warmer temps, budding trees, flowers blossoming. We had on short-sleeve tops and capris, flip flops. But last year, cold temps and drizzle, a snow dusting, and a long-lingering sadness.

"Has it been a year?" he asked. "It doesn't seem that long ago."

"No?" I wondered. And I thought about the illusion of time. My children's baby faces, seem just like yesterday; little pudgy cheeks giving way to growing up; favorite outfits packed away year after year for my own keepsakes of theirs so I can remember what little was like.

Reading history books of life a couple hundred years ago, not so long past, but another time's frozen forever. Vapor.

And only last summer's breezes against my skin, swinging in sunshine and trying to bottle all that was good into the moment, big and full. Remember how the sun felt. Remember how the breeze blew. Remember the shade of sky. Those moments, those moments, holding on tightly.

That I could grasp at temperature and color and the panting breath of children, yet other years packed up and nearly forgotten. Some memories like a lifetime ago. Others like just yesterday. This illusion of time.

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