In this season of life it takes concerted effort to make time go slow. I remember being twelve, waiting for thirteen. That was along wait. Being twenty, waiting for twenty one. Still pretty long in coming. And suddenly I am fifty. Now slow is my memory. Slow is my digestion. Time is not slow.
So, (for Mark) today it is Saturday and I am working hard at slow. I begin my day by noticing. I notice my husband's smile and his hands and think about how many times he has smiled at me and used his hands for me. I notice the flowers on the Christmas cactus and count buds still to bloom. I notice that the bedroom my kids slept in this week still smells like them and I realize I like that smell very much. I sit on the bed instead of ripping the sheets off. I remember how great it is to have family -
-so I call The Girls and give them a distance dose of Mimi love.
I move on to other tasks ... still paying attention to small delights - the smell of molasses, a friend's voice, the titmouse at the window.
I just checked and it is only two-thirty in the afternoon. I am surprised. Maybe it is noticing that makes time go slow. Paying attention to what I've seen a thousand times before. Being able to be surprised.