I was thinking about the defining moments of my life. The ones that stand out against all the white noise that the day to day becomes. And how long ago they happened. Time is relative, but in our lives time is the absolute. We live and die by the clock. From the time we are pronounced new and fresh to this world, till the time they put on our end. It’s all judged the same. The length of time you put into anything is something meaningful.
Everyone remembers time. You hear it everywhere. Jobs. “I’ve been working here three years and still haven’t gotten a raise.” Communities. “Hi. My name is Bob, and I’m an alcoholic, but I’ve been sober for three months.” Cue the clapping. Home. “Honey it’s been three weeks, since I’ve seen you. Please come home for the weekend.” School. “ Ten more minutes and I’m free for three months.” (It hardly seems like three months when you know what’s on the other end of that freedom.)
We judge people by time. By how long they have been married. How long they’ve been on drugs. How long it’s been since they died. Since they were born. It’s inescapable. It’s always there. Vacatiions aren’t even free of restraints. You know it’s going to end. You know the weekend will slip away faster than the hours you spend at work. But you also know at the end of the week, there’s always the weekend, waiting to greet you.
Thank god, it’s Friday.
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