A lot of what I was told was truth when I was younger did not end up standing up the test of time. Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and my belief that life would – or should - be fair all failed me. One concept that did prove to be true, however, was when I was told that as I got older time would simply fly by faster and faster.
There was no way as a child or as a young adult could I ever imagine just how fast the days, weeks, months, years and even decades would pass by. As a kid, it seemed to be an eternity between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Now that I’m older, it seems like all that it takes is a couple of deep breaths and it is Christmas – again!
I’ve also learned that if I don’t care for the current weather, all I have to do is seemingly blink my eyes a few times and soon we are in a different season. That is the one advantage that I’ve found to the speeding up of time. The unpleasant times go by just as quickly as the good times.
Nothing makes me feel older than when I’m listening to the radio and I hear a song that I used to enjoy. I think to myself, “Wow, I haven’t heard that one in a while”. My first thought is that it’s only been about three or four years, so of course I’m astonished when I realize it has been more like over thirty.
I guess what I’m searching for in my weaker moments is an answer to where all this time went. So far I’ve drawn a complete blank. If any of you have an answer, I’d sure like to hear about it. As I’m getting older, I’ve reached the point where I wouldn’t mind reclaiming a day or two every now and then.
I don’t know why we experience this phenomenon. Perhaps the answer will be found in some complex physics equation that I’m pretty sure I would never be able to understand anyway. However, I have also decided to try to keep things in my life as simple as possible, so there is surely no time to learn physics now.
My current hypothesis is that the fault lies with my child. As best as I can remember, I first began noticing time speeding up when my son was born. Watching him grow up quickly became a blur of passing years. Placing the blame on him only seems fair as he seems to blame me for everything that goes wrong with his life. I have no idea what excuse people have if they do not have children to use as their scapegoats.
Anyway, I feel I’ve spent enough of my ever-dwindling moments on this essay. I am going to stop now, since those who are older than I am tell me that the speeding up of time unfortunately even gets even more pronounced as the years go by. My only advice, then, is to hang onto your hat and enjoy the ride as best you can.
Jim Carey lives with his wife Janet and their two beloved golden retrievers, Nemo and Molly, in Sheboygan,Wisconsin. A social worker, then a chiropractor by training, writing has been a passion for Jim for the past twenty years. Echoes from Home is the author’s first entry into the world of publishing, and perhaps someday more of the many notebooks hidden away in his basement may make their way to the printed word as well. Jim’s next project will be a collection of short stories based on the Civil War.