Day 42

Hurry, Hurry, Hurry, Hurry, Hurry, Hurry, Hurry...That was the monologue playing in my head this morning when I woke up. I immediately started budgeting the hours ahead of me: two hours this afternoon to get my hair cut and colored, two hours this morning for grading, thirty minutes to respond to email.

I act as if the hours have already been paid to me: like a check, already cashed, the bills stowed away in my wallet. Time is such a valuable commodity. Doled out to us in such small quantities, it is impossible to hide it away in a cookie jar or store it under a mattress. We only have one precious moment at a time and then it is gone. We are left with only the residue of memory.

Yesterday was one of those rare days when I spent the moments wisely. There were the moments spent at the computer writing. I allowed the images to emerge from the fog and patiently searched for the right words. Later, I squinted at the sun as I walked downtown to Bucer's. While I drank my tea and ignored the books I brought along to read, I overheard a conversation about perspective and drawing and dinosaurs between a young man and a little boy. I met Bill at the co-op and ate a handmade peanut butter cup, allowing the rich, creamy chocolate to melt in my mouth. At home a few hours later we held hands while we watched comedies on television. I nodded off to sleep to the sound of Tina Fey.

I didn't win the lottery or buy a new car or get a book published or lose 10 pounds. But it was a good day. It was a good day because I paid attention. I hope I can do the same today, but it is hard to pay attention when that voice keeps shouting: Hurry, Hurry, Hurry, Hurry, Hurry, Hurry, Hurry...