Time waits for no (wo)man

time |tʌɪm  

noun1 [ mass noun ]

the indefinite continued progress of existence and events in the past, present, and future regarded as a whole

If I knew what the above dictionary definition meant, I would stand a much better chance at creating more of the stuff, I think. 

But sadly…

Time…is that precious commodity that none of us have enough of

Time…is probably better understood by Stephen Hawking than most of us mere mortals

Time…has been immortalised by Cher forever, in her desire to turn it back, whilst astride a large cannon, wearing an oversized hair ribbon and fishnets that weren’t quite up to the job….

Regardless, I don’t have enough of it. Because of this I am convinced that there are days when I live in an altered reality. One that takes things that are meant to be enjoyed at a slower pace — and perversely accelerates them.

As soon as parenthood descended, I found simple things were just impossible. Simple things that required a portion of time longer than the average attention span of a gnat. Things like —

• sleeping
• slow cooking
• watching a non-animated movie
• enjoying a bath
• reading a book
• checking your email and, dare I say, replying to the odd one

Getting back to that over-achiever, Stephen Hawking…he once said that time travel used to be thought of as just science fiction, but Einstein's general theory of relativity allows for the possibility that we could warp space-time so much that you could go off in a rocket and return before you set out.

I want to warp space-time. I need to warp space-time.

And, when I find out what space-time is, I’ll get on to that rocket-manufacturing thing. I want to be able to enjoy a slow cooked beef burgundy while watching something that Margaret and David have spoken about this century, in a bubble bath, while checking my iPhone in my sleep, before lying down with a good crime novel. Not much to ask for, really.

OK — let’s face it. I am probably not much of a time-warp-space-travelling-thing authority. But I reckon the challenge is on. While Stephen Hawking once wrote a book titled A brief history of time, followed up with the contrarily titled A briefer history of time, I reckon I could write a shorter one…if only I could find a some spare time.

reaching for the stars

another day dawns on february three

my wee little baby, you’ll no longer be

growing up fast before our own eyes

if only time stood still, instead it flies

i remember your teeny fingers and toes

your dark, dark eyes and cute button nose

you would follow my voice around the room

knowing it so well from deep in the womb

with the blink of an eye, you have turned four

my wee little baby, you are no more

each and every day my love for you

abounds like your joy in all that you do

my dreams for you mirror your own

just as always, as you have grown

your love for life is an inspiration

no star is safe in that far constellation