Time. It fills everyday. Our lives revolve around it and through it. We moan about it, we wish for it. Yet, what is it? To give it one simple definition is something that has made even intellectuals scratch their heads. Some view time as part of the basic structure of life and the universe, that in time things happen in a sequence. Others believe that time is not an entity or a happening, that it cannot be measured.
Most people, however, would agree that although we know that a minute holds sixty seconds and an hour has sixty minutes, time has a very subjective quality associated with it. It is closely linked to our emotions. Waiting for the bus to arrive can make a few minutes feel like an hour especially if you are running late, while the opposite is true when one does not want a period of time to pass too quickly. Then a week-end of forty-eight hours plus can seem as if it passed in the blink of an eye.
Whether you view time scientifically or philosophically, we all are subjected to its passing. Some of us view it as a gift, while others view it as a curse. It cannot be bought, nor can it be given away or even captured. It cannot be unspent or re-spent.
Sometimes we perceive time as a tormentor, when old age is prolonged beyond our understanding. When time granted is short, we feel it is playing a cruel trick on us and it leaves us with unanswered questions, yet to the butterfly those few hours of life is enough for it to fulfill its life's purpose with such an abundance of joy that it leaves us enthralled.
To me, every moment of time is precious, but even so I find it impossible to engrave every moment in my memory. What a blessing photographs are! However, I wish that I could have captured not only the special moments, but also those ordinary mundane moments, those real life moments that link the special moments together. Little butterfly moments. I would keep them in a viewing jar. How wonderful it would be to every now and again slip into my viewing jar and relive some of those snatches of time. The first time my parents looked at me, the nights my dad tucked me in. The coffee-fresh mornings in the game park when the day just awoke. The day my mom sang at my wedding - what a surprise! Those moments of silly laughter with my sister in the mall, the day she took me to the library. The first day I held my children in my arms, bundling them up against all the sharpness of the world, their first smiles. Crossing the street, holding onto their tiny, trusting little hands. My husband's first look of adoration, the early morning warmth of his embrace. All those days he would make the people around him laugh. The endless days of play with my brother. The special times when I helped bath my little nephew, now a grown man. The last day I saw my dad, just so I can have a chance to say all the things I never did. The day my friend and I sat on a street corner, painting the sunrise. Those cold winter days when my mom would fetch me from school and we would go get warm pies from the old bakery. These are but a few.
How precious our memories are, and over time they become more so. That is surely why the old folk speak about "The Good 'ole Days" even though they were often times of hardship. Time has a way to glorify even the worst of times and the worst of sinners. Time, elusive as it might appear at times, is a healing balm and a reflecting mirror. What moments would you like to keep in a viewing jar? How about sharing them with us here on my blog?
Thank you for stopping by and reading. I would love to hear from you, so please feel free to leave a comment. For reading more about time go to this link http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Time
