The Passage of Time

As I write the title of my blog I realize how cliché–ish this phrase can be. Of course time passes. I sure hope that isn’t my best thought for the day… that is, unless I really am able to comprehend what I’m saying.

Time isn’t saved… but I may become more efficient with my use of time. My productivity in a set amount of time can increase, but the time itself doesn’t stretch.

When I was a kid and we visited my cousins, we would play and enjoy our time together so much. When my parents would say, “We are going to have to leave in a few minutes,” it seemed we’d try to play harder to cram more fun into the remaining minutes of time, but time continued to tick away, methodically, predictably, unrelenting. If you are playing hard or relaxing, time passes at the same rate.

My mother, Joyce Jones, will be 80 years old on December 3, and my youngest daughter, Carley, will be 21 that day. If my grandmother, Viola Green, were still living, she would have celebrated her 103rd birthday that same day, December 3. Time passages. One woman is in Glory, one esteemed woman is to be celebrated as a new octogenarian, and one young woman is stepping over an imaginary but so important threshold of adulthood.

All three women are very important to me in similar and dissimilar ways. The familiarity of familial ties unites their similarities, but the distinctiveness of relationship with each of them shows the passage of time is prolific in me as well as them. From daughter to mother to grandmother… they each serve a role of relationship with me that show my transition, my time passage.

Sometimes its nearly comical when I look in the mirror and see the middle-aged man looking back at me because the man behind the eyes is ageless, but the body used to transport my spirit is showing some wear and tear… from the passage of time.

Time is only important on the earth part of my journey.

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