Every so often we’re reminded by how much time has passed, and how grown up the girls are now. Yesterday was one of those days. And, yes, in a couple of days we’ll be reminded again when we drop off our eldest (c) to begin her second year of college, and our middle daughter (r) to begin her first. My, how time flies. Meanwhile, a day at Ferry Beach isn’t so terrible a way to pretend that we can hold back the hands of time, at least for a little while.
Since going to the Rush “Time Machine” tour concert at Mohegan Sun in July, one particular song has stuck in my head. That I have created a Windows Media playlist that duplicates what they played that night hasn’t hurt, or that I have burned a two disc set so I can play it in the car (hooking up the MP3 player for the ten minute ride to work just isn’t worth the trouble). The song is “Time Stand Still”, which, to me, is about both the importance of living in the moment and the realization that moments are at the same time fleeting and likely to be fewer in the future than in the past.
Freeze this moment a little bit longer
Make each sensation a little bit stronger
This summer our second daughter graduated from high school and is about to go off to college. Her older sister will start her sophomore year in college, old friends celebrated their 25th wedding anniversary, summer is indeed going fast, and the nights are growing colder. Both in terms of the waning days of this particular summer and what seems to be a phase of our lives, I find myself wishing I could make time stand still.
I let my past go too fast
No time to pause
If I could slow it all down
Like some captain, whose ship runs aground
I can wait until the tide comes around
Tomorrow night we’re having dinner with some old (and new) friends, something we now will have done a couple of times. We are mainly friends from high school (now almost thirty years ago) and college, some with spouses or partners. Over the next week we’ll try to fit in a few more favorite things to do and places to go before life changes again. It seems strange to have arrived at this stage of life. Not that I don’t know how we got here or that all the time in between went unnoticed or unappreciated, but the events of this summer have made me more keenly aware of the passage of time and how precious each moment and each sensation can be.
Experience slips away
Experience slips away…
The innocence slips away.
After a break of eleven or twelve years we decided to take another stab at gardening this year, but on a much smaller scale. Two months later we’ve had a few marble-sized radishes (patience is not something I possess in abundance) and have been watching the tomatoes slowly ripen on the two plants we bought a little over two months ago. Today I picked a handful of the most ripe ones to let them finish in the house, relieve some of the weight on the vines, and make room for the many green tomatoes still to turn red.