Time

Time is annoyingly fleeting, annoyingly slow. There are many times when I want this phase of our lives to be over with. I am so done with the desperate roller coaster that is job hunting.

When I was working, the days sometimes blurred into weeks and months and I oftentimes would lament the time I was missing out on or was too tired or busy to appreciate.

Now, time can go achingly slow to the point that I find it hard to fill it. Especially now that I have the children all day, every day, trying to find ways to fill that time in meaningful ways can be exhausting.

Depression can make time seem to stand still around me, while others go about their lives. I am standing still. I am waiting for my life to catch up, to catch on, to move forward.

And yet. Time is slipping past me.

Sleep is an escape sometimes. Yet, in that time, I can find the most important things to stay up for. Tonight, Gabby came into bed with us and laid on my hip as I laid on my side. I laid perfectly still as she occasionally made small movements/adjustments in her impromptu bed. Gabby likes to sleep in our bed during the day. Usually, though, she is not one to cuddle like this. She prefers a quick pet and off she goes. She prefers Chewy to me. But not tonight. Tonight she tickles me every so often as she lays on my hips. And I take the time to realize how soft her fur is, how small and fragile she is starting to feel as age is starting to make changes to her body.

I drift off to sleep. I wake up to realize that my son is now in our bed. I awake to find that I am holding/hugging him while Gabby is sleeping near my head. My husband has not been pushed out of bed--yet. I should take my son back to his bed before that happens.

But I so want this time to stand still as I hold him. It strikes me how this past week has been a bit annoying with him home from camp; how I have been annoyed at his teenage lack of enthusiasm; how I have tried to connect with him and not been as successful as last summer; how I am going to miss him when he starts school (8th Grade!!) in 3 weeks; how I should get him new shoes, does he need new clothes too (where is that money coming from); how he is so tall and lean; how he used to be inside me and now is this person I sometimes don't understand. I hold him tighter. I try to breathe him in. I try to remember this time.

I take him back to his bed and find an extra cover for him. I go back to bed and cannot sleep, thoughts about time going by fast and slow--I need to write it down.

It is 5:30 in the morning, in about an hour we shall all be starting to get up--time is quick on Saturday mornings--karate is at an absurdly early time.

I am finishing this post--when I hear footsteps and movement. (Oh great, I have woken people up?!)

She has had an accident in her bed. Her sheets are on landing of the steps and I throw them downstairs to the laundry room. [sigh]

Time marches on with mundane clarity.



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Comments

MrsSpock said…
When J was a baby and I was staying home with him, I remember everything seemed so slow. There was very little to break up the day.

Now that I have been working full time almost 4 years, things seem to move at such a faster pace. I really don;t know which is worse!

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