…and she’s leather clad and cracking her whip.
Whacked imagery, I know, but that’s how I feel right now. Just be thankful I didn’t post a corresponding picture.
What is it about the passing of time that makes us all so crazy? It’s not like we don’t all know we’re getting older and going to die someday. Even control freaks like me know that you can’t stop time. Usually I can ignore the ticking of the clock I hear in the background of my life. I plug my ears and allow the busyness of life to drown it out. These last couple of weeks, however, it’s been a little hard. Nothing bad has happened. Quite the opposite, in fact. I suppose what set this off was that I recently reconnected with some old friends and just got to thinking.
Do you ever stop to look back at your life and wonder where it all went? One day you’re graduating and ready to conquer the world; or standing at an altar with someone, knowing this is the person you’ll grow old with; or you’re looking into the eyes of your newborn child, imagining all the things you’ll teach them; then, in the blink of an eye, you’re looking back on a lifetime of memories, wondering how in the hell you got where you are.
I think what bothers me most about the passing of time is that there are still so many things I want to do in my life, so much left to accomplish, and I feel like I’m running out of time to do them. Books to publish, places to visit, people to see. Yes, the notorious “Bucket List”. Yet, I wonder, when did life become more about reality and less about possibilities? When did the endless parade of bills and obligations become more important than everything else? Surely there was a moment in my life when the scales tipped, but I can’t think of when that moment was. And maybe it doesn’t really matter.
I have goals that I want to achieve. I’m surrounded by family and friends that support those goals. Possibilities are still abound. They may be hiding, but they are there. I just have to look past the realities to see them. So here I sit, trying to hold time at bay, attempting to strike out one more item on my “Bucket List”.
Time may look better in leather pants than I do, but the next time she cracks her whip at me, I might just give her the bird. I still have some memories to make.