"... if someone freely gifted
a portion of their
time to you
you are rich
in ways it will take
a lifetime to understand ..."
Last month I celebrated my 60th birthday, during that brief May heatwave, when anticipated Bank Holiday crowds kept me home. In truth, I should have been in Shetland, but had to cancel, rescheduling the trip for next year (long story …). Consequently, I’ve spent delicious time at home, which felt perfect.
When plans change unexpectedly and you’re suddenly faced with a clear calendar, time lengthens. It feels like a huge gift to be presented with a chunk of time you didn’t think you’d have. I certainly felt like that in early May. All too soon, the month passed and I was back to my familiar routines, but I’ve held onto that renewed appreciation of time.
We all need opportunities like this. It’s healthy to be faced with changing circumstances to which we must adapt. It keeps us on our toes, reminding us that we’re not as much in control as we think.
Over the years, my attitude to time has changed. That’s probably true of most of us. Remember childhood, when summer holidays seemed to stretch into infinity? Before you know it, you’re a teenager, panicking that time seems to have shrunk and you’re faced with exams for which you feel unprepared. And so it goes on. These are early lessons for a life that seems filled with time that races when you want it to slow down, and crawls when you want it to escalate.
If you’ve experienced the untimely death of a loved one, you’ve no doubt felt that they were robbed of time they should have had. Sadly, too many of us will recognise that feeling. On her anniversary, I recently recalled the death of a friend. I wrote this week’s poem in her memory. I hadn’t forgotten her, of course, but the poem had disappeared into my back catalogue and it felt good to retrieve it.
I love how memories from different times and locations come together both consciously and unconsciously. This often happens to me in dreams, when my brain places people from one period of my life into a situation from an entirely different time. It also happens in waking moments, particularly when I’m writing. Such experiences reinforce my belief that time is not linear but cyclical, and perhaps even multi-dimensional.
When I wrote this poem, I was thinking back to something someone once said to me many years before. I was short of money but wanted to give a special gift to a student I was teaching, who was turning 16. I bought a decorative storage box from IKEA and wrote a poem for her about keeping a memory box, which I placed inside. The monetary cost was minimal, but the poem was heartfelt and she loved it. Her mother told her that I’d given her the greatest gift because I had given her my time. It’s stuck with me ever since.
Whatever your approach to time, I’m sure you’ll agree that it’s precious. I genuinely do think it is the most valuable thing we can share with others, and appreciate for ourselves. Thank you for your time spent with me, reading my blog. I value you being here, I really do. However you spend the rest of your time today, I hope it will bring you whatever you most need to make your day complete.
fi wynne writes 