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Category: time

So Far Away

So Far Away

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The words to the Carole King song “So Far Away” are in my head these days: “Doesn’t anybody stay in one place anymore?” Not because I’m longing for someone who’s moved away—nothing as dramatic as that. It’s more the pace of life that has me humming, the days that zoom by, the children growing up, the seasons passing. Sometimes middle age seems like one big whoosh.

But some of the disorientation is self-imposed. It comes from the constant distraction of living, of interruptions by text and email, of time disjointed and concentration broken. The “anybody” who doesn’t stay in one place anymore, that’s me.

In Medias Res

In Medias Res

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I love this phrase. I first learned what it meant when I read The Odyssey in high school. “In the middle of things.” It’s how The Odyssey begins: in the middle of the story.

Some days begin “in medias res.” I’m catching up with myself before I’ve even begun. Today was like that. I woke up thinking about one of the 120 professor profiles I’m editing at work. Have I pulled out the sidebar information? Have I shown it to the professor? Plainly, it was time to get up.

So I did, and because my morning began before it started, I’ve tried to provide a more intentional counterpoint: I’ve read, I’ve written in my journal, and now my entry here. The weather is still and quiet, perfect for catching my breath, for attending to bird song, for feeling, in my bones, that this is a new day, a fresh start, a gift.

Clock Emeritus

Clock Emeritus

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Today as we “spring forward,” the one clock in our house we won’t rush to reset is our charming cuckoo, our most independent-minded timepiece. Like a retired guard dog that barely lifts his head when burglars stroll off with the family silver, our cuckoo long ago stopped being a reliable time keeper. It’s been elevated to clock emeritus, the pulse of our house. As for keeping time, well, let’s just say we don’t use it when we have to catch a train.

But we treasure our cuckoo clock just the same. Its tick-tock is the rhythm of breathing; it sounds as if it were meant to be. Besides, we have too few items in our possession that are this human – that work simply and not always efficiently, that can be fixed at home, and that when broken cannot be immediately replaced. Things like these are more than possessions; they are companions. Put enough of them in a house and you make it your own.