Time is of the Essence

I got to thinking the other day, if I was given the opportunity to choose any gift, it would have to be more time.  Of course, a small bauble from my stud-muffin to show his undying affection and appreciation of my love would be accepted with enthusiasm and excitement, but a girl only has one neck, two ears, two wrists, two ankles, ten fingers and ten toes (information just in case he would like to try to endow all my appendages), and eventually the bling may overwhelm.

But then I began to wonder, if I had this time, what exactly would I do with it.  Do I finish the laundry?  Would I start a dinner to knock the socks off my unsuspecting family, instead of the usual humdrum, mid-week offering?  Would I vacuum the house before the family got home?  Or, would I allow the natural course of greed and selfishness to take over and do something specifically for myself?

Extra time on my hands would enable me to sit down and begin to tackle that pile of books that have been accumulating dust.  I could meander on the beach, searching for those perfect pieces of beach glass.  I might sip tea on the veranda and ponder the meaning of life.  I could get quite use to a nap in the middle of the afternoon.  Or, I may do nothing at all.

When giving myself the thought of such a decadent treat of more time, I found that my mind was racing, trying to sort out how I would fill the void.  By using all of this brainpower, I felt I might be defeating the purpose.  Society has us so conditioned that we need to keep busy, all of the time, that we sometimes forget to stop and smell the roses.  I would like to start a campaign that every man, woman and child get (at least) a half an hour, every day, dedicated to appreciating the little things (a squirrel running back and forth is rather comedic and instantly takes your mind off whatever is on it; looking out the window at the rain or snow is mesmerizing; watching your dog discover new territory and wondering where the trail they have sniffed out would lead; sucking out of a straw instead of just sipping from the glass even changes ones attitude when you realize things do taste a bit different using this method).

It may appear to the unsuspecting eye that extra time is fun and frivolous – but isn’t that just the point?  In a world where kids are growing up way too fast, adults mostly have to act their age and we are in our cars more than we are sitting at the dining room table playing a rousing game of Monopoly with the family, we deserve to give ourselves the gift of time to do the things that can be enjoyed and will be remembered.  I recall that my dad worked 14-hour days, but I also have committed to memory that his antics, practical jokes and undying patience and time it took to teach me how to throw a perfect spiral, have persevered.  I hope my son will remember the time we went to a pro basketball game and ate the entire jumbo plate of nachos with both the chili beans and refried beans, didn’t skip the sour cream and asked for extra cheese.  When he has his family, I hope he will reminisce the overstuffed, filled-to-the-gill feeling, exhausted to the bone, happy chatter, laughter and the time we shared – and a few highlights of Chris Webber and Allen Iverson.  Besides, when it comes down to it, things are nice, but time (and each other), are things we should always be able to count on.

Cynthia A. McClelland, curious observer of the obvious with interpretations of the oddities of daily life. Mother, wife and lover of the furry, resides in the north Lake Tahoe area.

Cynthia A. McClelland © 2003-