Time Flies. Or it Doesn't.
4 minute read
I recently celebrated a birthday — the first number is a 7 and the second doesn’t matter. I’m firmly in the Heyday 2.0 phase of life and am here to tell you there is nothing to fear. I’ve let go of my “work-life” and am awash in unstructured time.
I feel a bit like a ten-year-old when time was elastic; summer days stretched out endlessly. No schedule. No obligations. Just days with friends. Maybe a walk to the library and afternoons reading on the porch.
Something weird is happening, though. Time is taking on a new dimension; it’s still minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years but a strange compression is occurring. I’m acutely aware of the limitations of time and how I choose to spend it. Dare I say it? I’m picky about who I share my time with. Choosy about which play/concert to attend. Often ask myself “do I really want to spend time with X going to Y or do I prefer the Zen of my own company?” Should I finish the book I’m not particularly enjoying? Nope. This is a time to be a little selfish and not feel bad about it.
I’ve heard women my age lament “HOW DID WE GET SO OLD?” Or “I can’t believe how fast the time has gone!” Especially at a class reunion or when we’re having good chat after a few glasses of whatever.
We have very selective memories and personal highlight reels of the big moments (and plenty of the little ones, too) in life. But why this emphasis on how time has flown instead of thinking about the depth and breadth of where life has taken us?
On my birthday floating in a canoe on a lake somewhere in Minnesota I began to think about life. Curious how random thoughts drift into your head when you’re watching clouds float overhead. Like: how many places have I lived? Or just how many dinners have I prepared? And that time I did . . . what? When?
Oh, alright, if you insist, here’s a sampling of my brain on clouds. These are miscellaneous tidbits and definitely not in chronological order.
- 11 apartments, houses, and temporary housing situations in my 40 years with Steve. And an additional 3 since he died.
- Dinners prepared: Married 40 years. That’s 14,600 evenings. Odds are I only hit 85% because take-out or pizza night or leftovers. So that’s 12,140 dinners attempted.
- Pets that didn’t work out. (Sorry Casso, Lil’ Lucy, Norville, ad nauseam.)
- That time I skipped school and someone ratted me out.
- Weddings! of all kinds. (My gift will arrive on your 10th anniversary.)
- How many rooms have I renovated?
- Bottles of wine shared - or not.
- That time I asked a friend if she was pregnant and she coldly replied, “No.”
- Attempts at making art (no gallery showings but it amuses me).
- How many final exams with surprising results? (Both pass and fail.)
- I drove how many miles on road trips West, South and Up North? (are we there yet?)
- Number of emotional meltdowns - mine, his and ours
- Fashion mishaps, trends and tragedies. (How big were your shoulder pads?)
- I gained or lost how many pounds? (It’s all baby weight!)
- Projects begun and abandoned for lack of enthusiasm or skill.
- How many PowerPoint presentations did I create? (Snooze)
- Knock-down disagreements with lovers or husband or friends. (Just kidding, no injuries.)
- Too many funerals and losing people I love.
- My first-grade school crush (Tom O’Malley I’m talking to you) and boyfriends before marriage. (Mostly unrequited.)
- Quite a few of my not-so-good decisions. (Let’s move to Wisconsin!)
- Lies I’ve told (white and not so white).
- Times I’ve made love (or even thought about it).
- So many late-night boozy conversations with friends about politics, books, art and men.
- That time I cried at The Met when I saw Madame Butterfly for the first time.
- Prayers I’ve sent heavenward.
- The times I’ve ignored advice (and when my advice was ignored; eejits).
- Passports renewed (four going on five) and travel mishaps. (How many flights?)
- That job I got in 1976 that changed my life. (Thanks Cy.)
- My first period (the terror!).
- Walks to the library during summer vacation and reading for hours on the front porch.
- Some really stupid things I did and somehow survived.
- The number of people who have driven me crazy. (Might be in the hundreds.)
- Summers at the cabin doing absolutely nothing.
- Hours spent cleaning and vacuuming.
- Hangovers with friends.
- Halloween costumes for the kids created out of nothing.
- Loads of laundry done, clothes shrunk or ruined.
- Pairs of shoes purchased that DID NOT FIT.
- That first open water swim. (Fear of snapping turtles or big fish.)
- Sunday Masses attended and/or skipped. (Sundays in Ordinary Time are my fave)
- Some illegal substances enjoyed (in moderation).
- All the things I didn’t want to do but did so out of obligation.
- That time I pranked a colleague by putting an open can of tuna in her office drawer when she was on vacation. (It WAS payback for one she pulled on me.)
- The ridiculous number of photos I’ve taken — film, digital, and slides (Kodachrome!).
- My realization our kids turned out just fine in spite of me.
Gentle readers, this list has been edited to protect the innocent and spare me embarrassment. So many surprises at things remembered. A lot of mini-moments and plenty of big ones, too. So, how DID I get so old? The only answer is: I HAVE LIVED (almost 27000 days!) and packed a lot into one simple life. It is so not over. There is a beauty in this age — in Heyday 2.0. I know time is limited — it’s still passing just as it always has. I know who I am, what I’ve endured and celebrated, and what I won’t tolerate anymore. I intend to keep on living, and keep adding to my highlight reel. I may even climb back into a canoe again, ponder the clouds and see what happens.
Margaret McInerny, September 2022
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