Time speeds by so fast these days I can hardly seem to keep up with it. I feel more like someone watching from the stands at a race car track, dazed as the roadsters flash by in a blur, their engines whining high at mosquito pitch. Occasionally the crowd roars out — maybe there is a near catastrophe, or even an actual collision! If I look away for a moment, I may miss something, but would that be so bad?
The preachers claim that I’m both the audience and the act, so maybe I am just too fast for my own self. In any case, I tend to lose interest more easily these days. Now I turn and walk away. Who needs all that artificial excitement anyway? Sometimes I will try to write it down, but then forget what it was I was going to say. That’s how important my words are, my memories.
I always remember you. How could I forget? You are the reason I came here. Wherever this is, you are here with me. That is what matters. The wise say all kinds of interesting things about time, but just being with you makes everything else irrelevant — all the talk, all the clocks.
When it all drops off, that is wisdom. You pick it up and offer it back to me as a shiny toy. We are here to play, after all — that’s what you showed me, and so we become again like little children, and enter the Kingdom of Heaven.
Even to say “I love you” both breaks the mood and simultaneously stitches it back together in one seamless piece, the peace of falling to sleep with your hand in mine. There is more to that one gesture than any words I could say.