Ticking Away the Moments

I can't remember which gathering it was, but during some event we hosted at our house over the holidays I had a conversation with someone older and much wiser than myself about our perceptions of time. Apparently, as we age, the amount of space memories and experiences take up in our physical brains gets smaller, so we actually perceive time to pass more quickly. Another effect of aging to join these expanding laugh lines! But I do find myself more frequently uttering, “How is it already Thursday?” and, “Holy cow, it’s almost February?” and, “Where did 2018 go?!”

I've had the luxury of being able to take extended weekends to appreciate the natural beauty of Colorado, to travel and explore new cities and savor new flavors, visit family all across the country, and relax in far-away places, and wouldn't trade those moments for anything. But, in order to truly cherish the beautiful moments, you can’t trade the icky ones either. The joy inherent in a reunion with a sweet friend also requires a goodbye.

With Bosco’s age becoming more apparent on a daily basis, last week I found myself thinking fondly of the days his boundless energy and destructive teeth wreaked havoc on our bedroom furniture. Something I would never have considered in the moment I was researching whether it was possible to smooth out and refinish walnut with chunks gnawed out of it!

I have also found myself nostalgic for days when all I had to do was get through piles of homework assignments and make sure the dishwasher was emptied when it was clean. I remember constantly feeling stressed and overwhelmed during high school and college, longing for the day when I’d have a job that didn’t involve bringing any work home, and I could enjoy my evenings and weekends – ha! I would love the ability to settle down with an interesting book and read for hours without feeling guilty about all of the things I should be doing instead.

Perceived speed aside, I did need the sage reminder that you only get to experience this life once, and each piece of it – beautiful or bitter – contributes to the tapestry you are weaving.