What is time? A unit of measure in which we mark the passing of. Time is an invention for humans. No other animal, vegetable or mineral on this planet measures time except humans. I’ve never seen my dog check any clock for the time. Of course, my dog does know the time to get up to go out, the time he needs to take his afternoon walk and when it is the appropriate time for us to go to bed. However, he doesn’t consult his wrist watch to know the time, it is an internal thing for him or a ritual.
I remember when my son was small and 5 minutes of time was a lifetime for him. He would pitch a fit over being put in time out for a mere 5 minutes of time. To him, it was an eternity. Today, he still grumbles about time; but not as much as he used to. Days or weeks are more his complaining phase rather than minutes or hours.
For me, I mark time. When I am in miserable pain, I feel every second that is of my life. I feel the ticking of the clock beat a staccato in my brain as the pain radiates through my soul. Will my pain ease in 5 minutes, 5 hours or 5 days? I’m not sure; but time marches on as I lay in agony, praying for the time to hurry up until I can be eased of my own misery.
For some, they pray for more time. For others, they want their time to speed up for important events. Time seems to fly when we are engrossed in fun, a project or busy living life. Time seems to creep by during times of boredom, crisis or pain. However, time marches on at the same rate no matter the task at hand. Sixty seconds to every minute, sixty minutes to every hour and 24 hours to every day. Time does not slow or rush forward, it keeps on steadily, day in and day out.
Why are we so obsessed with the passage of time, then? I guess because we never seem to have enough of that precious time to do everything we want to do. When our time is up, it is up. We can’t go back to finish the things we didn’t have time to finish.
I count each day as a gift. I get through them each the only way I know how and I try not to worry about the things I can’t seem to get finished. Life is an ongoing project. I want to make the most of each day. I tell my son I love him daily. I make sure to always kiss him good morning and good night. I value the time I am given, pain filled as it is, and remember what is important for my life.
What does time mean for you?