Time is fluid, ticking, precious. This might seem obvious, but most of us take it for granted. I know I do.
On Thursday of this week, I will start a job. It’s part-time, during school hours, so I’ll still have time to write my manuscript and dabble here on my blog, as well as all the other household/mum/volunteer stuff that eats my days. But today, I have been staring off into the distance, wondering how I’m going to fit everything in. I’ve been sending silent, yet adoring, accolades to all the mums I know who work full-time hours.
I have wasted my morning. I’ve deluded myself into thinking that I have loads of time. Plenty of time for that. Time is on my side.
But it’s not, is it? Our time is precious. We don’t have an endless supply of it. What is it about us that we forget the fragility of our lives, or that we let the gossamer threads of time slip. I look in the mirror and am shocked to see a face of a middle-aged person staring back at me, not the vibrant young 25 year old me, who my brain thinks I still am. Should that sort of visual connector about the vulnerability of being human be enough?
I don’t have the answers, obviously. I am using this word prompt as a way to remind myself to knuckle down, be grateful, and to love and cherish every second.
And have a great day!