On The Holiness of Time

Time is not my friend; Time is not on my side. For the last two months, I have longed for the stretches of time where it just goes by -- where the clock peacefully passes. Instead, our lives have been one thing after another -- some magnificent, others magnified and difficult. But now the proverbial clearing lies under our feet. And time is the view before us.

My mind, previously filled with tasks-at-hands is unwinding, slowly. There are still chores and tasks and requirements, but not enough to fill each and every minute of the day. Turning the pages of a book and sipping hot coffee are not guilt-laden exercises for either of us -- they are pleasures.

There is the laughter I can enjoy on his time with a growing admiration and pride-- a laughter that has changed my life. There are the simple, quiet and tangible moments that are back. The evenings of music and books and conversation. Breakfasts and dinners that thrive. There is a sacredness now in the moments again.

Whether this creates in me further food for thought in this space, I do not promise. I make no resolutions. I give you no hope. I propose no direction other than the one already taken. And while there is much to write about along those lines, I am finding I have little to say for it.

Instead I am finding a time again I had had to forsake for life. Had to put it up and away like the decorations of the seasons. Walking past it in the mornings and evenings and occasionally taking it off the shelf long enough to catch a breath. But now she has come down from being admired and sought to being experienced and felt. Like bagels; like coffee; like meat and potatoes; like worn pages of typeset; like a soft voice echoing into the night; like the laughter and smile of the most innocent among us.