Time is a funny thing. We tend to believe that we have more than we do but wish we had more even when we misuse what we’ve been given.
Then there’s that strange sensation of going back in time, at least when flying through time zones from one side of the ocean to the other.
This is why the kids – all of us are now on the Canadian side of the Atlantic – woke up sometime before the sun this morning. And why one of them could later barely get past the supper hour before collapsing in the closet chair he could find.
One day, strange as it seems, there will be no more time. We’ll, somehow, live outside of it. I hope that I’m content with whatever living arrangements I have at that, uh, time. It would be very frustrating to have one day follow the next forever without enjoying the whole thing.
But in the meantime, we’re all still inside it, this bubble of time. And it all can be tiring. I guess it’s supposed to be.