Killing Time

See what is happening?  As I hung up the phone at 4:10, that is exactly what happened on my office wall clock.  Time fast-forwarded for exactly 24 hours and the clock was then "reset."  I didn't make this happen; I looked up and it was spinning.  I have two witnesses lest any of you think I was drinking or hallucinating on the job.

My youngest announced, as only a burgeoning middle-school nerd can, that it was a paradox.  "You know, Mom, when The Doctor crosses his own timeline."  Right.  "And, anyway Mom, you know time isn't linear." Right.

Well, son, time feels pretty linear on  many days.  Many parents at my school will say in awe and with a little bit of regret that they can't believe their child is in whatever grade he is in.  My stock response for them is, "Isn't amazing how young people age but we stay the same?"  This remark is usually met with a polite chuckle.  But, really, what can you say?  How about: "I can't believe it either, and with every year, we are all a year closer to the grave."  Doesn't seem quite the right response, does it?   Perhaps, "Well, children grow and mature and we get old and die and they take our place."  A little grim again.  We all have days when we feel older than we are. Hopefully, those are outweighed by days that we feel younger or just right.

I have always had trouble remembering how old my friends are.  I may know their birthdays, their life stories, their most intimate secrets - I can remember all of those, but age?  Who cares?  I don't pay attention to that. If you have ever told me your age, chances are you are still that age in my book.  If I've never known your age, chances are good I will put you right around my age.  When I was a little girl, I once knew that my grandmother was 57.  She is still fifty-seven, a full two decades after her death. My mom is fifty-five, and no, it doesn't matter that I'm 46.  Of course, I can do the math and figure out people's chronologies; I'm not that dense.  Time does pass, and people do age.  I just don't keep track of it very well.  A blessing or a curse? I'm not sure. Just this morning I was asked when I met my dear friend, Kathy.  In Mr. Drish's physical science class in 9th grade - when I was fourteen.  Whoa.  Kathy and I have been friends for...um...thirty-two years?  How is that possible?  I don't feel old enough to have known someone for that long.  The thing is, there is truth in my son's statement.

When I was in the classroom full-time I did read alouds to my classes.  Nearly every day started with a couple of pages from a book that took most all of the semester to read.  One of my favorites to read aloud was Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom.  The chapters were just right to kick off a class, and often Morrie's ideas paralleled discussions that we were having in class.  One of those ideas was that although we are all a certain age at any given moment, we are also all of the ages we have been up to that point.

That's a great lesson for teens who often feel the fun of their childhood has slipped away and what they have to look forward to is years of slaving.  It's okay to not be mature all the time.  Go play in the yard; ride a bike; fly a kite; make mud pies.  It's an even greater lesson for mortgage-paying-car-repairing-child-rearing-supper-making adults. You have all of the ages you have already been inside of you.  Time passed isn't lost; it is stored within us.