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Time is strange. It can tick so slowly away, moment by moment, each dragging longer than the last, a phenomenon best known while waiting in line at that one place you really didn’t want to go but couldn’t put the errand off any longer. Then clumps of it mush together, and just when you’re getting used to not bundling up to stick your head outside, suddenly we’re staring at the end of summer.
How can the small parts go so slowly and the large so quickly? It seems as though it must defy physics. Yet it happens, again and again, where you suddenly look up and it’s just not when it used to be.
You can try to be mindful of it, sure, carve it out into blocks, dole it out bit by bit, crumb by crumb. But time’s indifferent to such shenanigans. It moves as it wishes, which, coincidentally, always seems to be the opposite of the way we wish it would.
Perhaps it is one of those things we need to give the room to do what it will, behave as it will, because it’s not as though it listens to us, anyway. It should remain constant, but it bends and shapes itself as it wants. Best that we can do is smile, nod, and play along.
Need something to read? Check out Her Cousin Much Removed, The Great Paradox and the Innies and Outies of Time Management and Aunty Ida’s Full-Service Mental Institution (by Invitation Only) .