The Importance of Time

The summer is nearing an end around our home and I can’t help but feel speechless about it. Within the past six months it seems I’ve been witness to life changes of those around me. Family has moved in, moved out.....moved away. It's created a solemnness that still stings at times but for the most part has laid itself rest in my unspoken thoughts.  While I usually attack my summer plans with an organized aggressiveness this time it was different. I moved in slow motion through the month of May and cautiously closed a chapter I'd invested in at our oldest daughter’s school. It didn’t sink in until it was over that I had come to know parents, kids and teachers in the course of 4 years. It would be back to the drawing board come August and I had a few months to realize it and so did my daughter. The topic fell silent between her and I. What else was there to say?

This morning was the first day of school. Dropping off my kids on the first day of school has always been an interesting experience for me. It’s flooded with my own memories of the awkward insecurities I had as a young girl, mixed with anticipation for my own children and then grandly topped off with my inevitable social analysis of other families and the general process. By the time the grueling 15-minute ritual had been accomplished this morning, I felt as if I had just finished writing a thesis. Drained and unsure, my husband and I got in the car and fell into the routine of weekday demands. I thought to myself as we drove by and glanced at the windowed doorway that there would never be enough time to slow it down and take it all in. That much I am sure of.

I suppose that’s why yesterday went just as it was meant to. The last day of summer has traditionally been relished in the mountain air with my kids. Snapping the last few pictures near the lake with their summer tans, singing the songs that were the soundtrack of our summer on the radio.  But not yesterday.  Something inside me was still. Quiet. Something caused me to pause and interrupt my instinct to head for the hills. Even now I don’t know what…but I’m grateful for it. I watched my kids grow older in the matter of 5 minutes. They wanted to go outside with their friends and then they gathered in the backyard splashing about the hose while I was in the garden. It was a simple day. A window into their safe childhood summer and I felt privileged to look through it. We were all at peace. Just being, talking about nothing in particular and laughing at each other's outrageous attempts at humor.

We’re inevitably being pushed forward. Every day. Flung into tomorrow’s expectations and required to show up on time. I thought a lot about the question – what will I do with my time? People ask me this as if I’ve just received 40 hours a week of free time. After the general bitterness subsided over the question - I thought about it more. What I will I do with the time I’ve been given? What should any of us do with the spare 15 minutes we might have in an afternoon or the weekend off that we have at our disposable? What will I do in a two-hour respite that can change the world I live in? Not just maintain it - but improve it?  It’s irrelevant what age any of us are since this question applies to us all. And it applies at every hour of the day or night. How do you spend your time? It’s probably a good indicator of self-discipline, values, desire and ambition or lack thereof.  The thought occurred to me that without goals or ambition – how can I continue to become? The fear of falling subject to a lazy complacency provoked me to action. Thus, I created a few goals for myself.

And I began to feel hopeful.