When I was young, time moved very, very slowly. I spent much of my youth waiting… waiting for the school bell to ring… waiting for the weekend to begin… waiting for summer… waiting to get my driver’s license… waiting to graduate… waiting to leave home and live on my own, on my terms.
Now, in my 40th year, I find it ironic that my biggest complaint is the lack of time… time to work… time to write… time to enjoy my family… time to rest… time to live.
Another weekend has come and gone, and the list of things I wanted to do is sitting beside me with very few things marked off. There are the dull chores that need to be done — laundry and cleaning. There are fun things too — beading and (gasp!) learning to knit. But mostly I feel there simply is not enough time to just be. To read a book from the pile sitting on my bedside table. To make cookies with my kids. To play a game with my family. To take a long walk with my dog. To meet a friend for lunch. To actually have a conversation with my husband about something other than the long list of things we need to do.
There’s nothing like turning 40 to make you realize that time is not going to slow down. It’s going to get faster.
With that in mind, I’ve decided to spend the next two hours slightly differently than I originally planned. I’m putting off the laundry and the dishes. I’m making myself a cup of tea. I’m pulling out my beading stuff, and I’m going to make something pretty. And then I’m going to make a lunch date with someone for this week.
Because there’s simply not enough time to sit around thinking about how I wish I had more time.