Monthly Archives: March 2014
This past week, a short film about strangers kissing went viral on social media. I may or may not have watched it a million times. If you missed it, you should, too.
I write kisses in my stories — lots and lots of kisses — but do mine start out that sweet and hesitant? Do they quickly turn that steamy and electric? Do my characters lose themselves in their kisses like these strangers do? You can better believe they will from now on.
Also, the writer in my wants to know, what happened to these couples after? Did they exchange numbers? Go on dates? Fall in love? I don’t know, but I do know this: I want to watch it again.
Once transferred to my private room, I noted the message board on the wall next to the clock, beneath the small TV. It informed me, as such hospital boards do: “Your RN is Kevin” and “Your CNA is [name I can’t remember, because she wasn’t as memorable, apparently, as some singer’s doppelganger].”
I thought, Kevin? Seriously, a man? And as I lay there frumpy-times-a-thousand, I hoped and hoped it wouldn’t be some young, hot dude. Because the last thing I wanted was an intimidating man hunk administering my meds and regularly checking all the wires glued to my braless and saggy, you know, heart area.
Yep, time sure does fly when you’re not looking.
I didn’t know any better.
When my boys were teenagers and I continued to work outside of the home, I believed that the days and hours and minutes would slow down once I was no longer helping with homework and playing chauffeur and working so many gosh-darn overtime hours.
I still didn’t know any better.
The year my mom turned 65, I said, “Mom, time is whooshing past. I can’t wait till the boys grow up and life slows back down.”
My mother looked at me with wisdom in her eyes. “If you think it’s fast now, just wait till you’re my age.”
I didn’t believe her.
And yet, now that my boys are grown up and on their own, now that I’ve stepped out of the daily commute rat race and work from home, now that it feels like I’m not rushing here and there 24/7, time continues to pick up pace.
I’ve talked to my boys and they concur. Those childhood and teenage years crawled past with all of the urgency of a snail crossing the road. But we all agree that the moment we turned the corner into adulthood, time shifted into overdrive.
How can that be? Why does it sometimes seem that the hours in a single day drag on endlessly, yet the passage of time from one Christmas to another happens in the blink of an eye? And if time speeds by faster each year, what will it be like at 95 or 100?
Do you know of a way to slow down time? Or is the ever increasing passage of time all hogwash and you recommend I get my head examined?
Thanks for stopping by to talk to me today!