Friday, December 3, 2010

I, Time Keeper

As each hand in the clock moves, round and round, the same way each hour, time passes. This is the clock’s repetitive and mechanical job and our routine to keep watch. There is a mechanism within that allows it to tell us, to remind us that time is pushing on, moving forward, never stopping. Though the clock resets itself at midnight continuing to repeat its pattern, we move forward. No repeating, no going back.

Moments turn to memories, and memories are held tight, to ensure they become captured, embraced by my full soul, not taken for granted or brushed away, not wanting them to be forgotten.

I seem to be a hostage of time and all its value. I am held in moments, while the days, months, and years slip through my grasp as easily as the sand run through an hour glass.

As a child, time seemed to stand still. I see that in my girls. The sense of urgency or rushing does not exist, not until adulthood sets in. I remember when summer seemed as if it lasted an eternity. Vacations felt like an endless adventure. Now, it feels as if minutes turn to hours, days turn to weeks, weeks to months, and months to years. Memories and moments all created and all happening faster than I can wrap my head around.

Comparable to a butterfly, in all its glory, fluttering above through an open field, time can not be captured. My eagerness to take hold of time similar to the opened arms of a child, running, chasing the butterfly through the field, wanting to just grasp and hold tight. The stronger the chase is, the faster the butterfly moves.

Atop a clock the butterfly will settle. A clock, the very mechanism that reminds us of the time passing, moving whether it be slow as in childhood, or quickly in adulthood.

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