Sometimes it happens for no good reason at all. Nothing in particular went wrong. The day itself can be completely average. As was the day before it. And yet something about the time passing seems slower moving than when I get stuck in the muddy snow-slush substance that accumulates in my backyard paradise as the formerly beautiful snow diamonds melts. (That also may have happened today.)
My conviction to live in the moment is in direct conflict with the words, yet I found myself agreeing when my dear forever mom said them today. “I can’t believe it’s only Tuesday,” she said to dad over dinner. For no good reason, the week does indeed seem to be dragging in a way even I have to admit.
Upon further reflection, I don’t suppose it’s terrible to consider the possibility that time can occasionally drag. I don’t suppose it is actually that much different than pausing to realize how quickly time has been flying by. Time, and the living of it, has a mind of its own sometimes.
I think my problem is when either kind of time prompts a desire or longing for time to change somehow. For it to speed up or slow down. Either is a crime against the present, which (at least in my humble doggie opinion) is meant to be treasured. In a case like today, I felt mom’s words. I, too, couldn’t believe it’s only Tuesday. And, as a result, I found myself wishing it were Wednesday. Or Thursday. Because that means my favorite time of the week (the weekend, obviously) was closer.
Therein lies the problem. I was wishing time away instead of appreciating that this week it seems to have slowed down before our very eyes.
Sometimes it happens for no good reason at all. Or so I thought. Today I realized maybe when time slows down, it’s happening for a reason. Maybe it is to remind us to slow down. Maybe it is to remind us to cherish the moments, instead of wish them away. Maybe it is to remind us not just to be, but to live.