One of the advantages of having my 20-year-old son living with us again, is that I have my very own Dex guy. You know, the guy on the t.v. ad that is a living phone book, sits cross-legged in the kitchen cabinet, and blurts out information on demand. Well, instead of a phone book, my Dex guy is an encyclopedia. There's a slight flaw in his software, though, because oftentimes he'll just blurt out facts at random.
The other day he came into the room and was several sentences into his spiel, when something caught my ear. "Wait a minute. Rewind," I said, twirling my finger in the air. "What did you just say?"
Pleased to have my full attention, he said, "You know how you think that as you get older time goes faster? Well, it's true. It does."
He went on to explain in some kind of quantum physics-trigonometry-algebraical fashion that time as we know it -- in seconds, minutes, hours -- doesn't exist. That the actual passing of "time" isn't measured like we think. Our measurement is calibrated by seconds and minutes, for practical purposes. But our brain's interpretation is altogether different. . . . .Oh heck, I obviously can't explain it. But the important thing is, I'm not going crazy.
There was a time in my life, when time flowed through the hourglass in a streamlined, orderly fashion. That little space in the hour glass was so small that the grains of sand fell one or a few at a time, slipping past, even getting caught for extended periods while I waited for events such as Christmas or summer vacation when I was a child, or the arrival of one of my babies when I was a young adult.
I don't know when the space began to widen, and the sand started to flow more freely. The baby boy started school, the little girl was riding a bike, the young boy is driving a car. At times the granules seem to race each other and pour through as though liquid. It seems like a few weeks ago that we put the Christmas decorations away and before you know it it will be time to take them out again. At the end of the day, I don't know where the hours go, as homework assignments, soccer practice, doctor appointments all fall through the hour glass at once, and still there are things left to be done. The little boy who couldn't wait to grow up, is now grown and out the door. And back again:)
Life rarely gives you second chances, to have moments back. Having my son living with us again has been a challenge in some ways (for him and us both), but there are parts of it that I savor. For one, I love having the whole family around the dinner table again each night. The kids are a bit older, the conversation is more adult at some moments and then joking and laughing and being silly the next. There seems to be a new energy to sitting down at the table, new things to discuss, and I have a renewed interest in preparing new recipes.
Because I know it won't last long. Before we know it, someone else will be leaving the nest. That ever-elusive Time -- real or not -- will have slipped by and we'll be looking back, wondering where it went.