At Medlock Bridge Elementary, where I spent first through fifth grades, there were clocks on the walls in the hallways. Around 8 years old, when my consciousness woke up to the concept of time, I became obsessed with keeping up with its passage. In line, to and from recess or the cafeteria, I would glance up at the numbers,
“It’s 9:12 in the morning, before I even know it, it will be 3 and I can go home.”
“How many minutes will pass before I look at a clock again?”
“I wonder if I will remember this particular 1:19pm when I’m older.” (Newsflash, I remember.)
The summer before kindergarten, my father told me I had six weeks before school started. Six weeks? What in the world did that mean? How long is a week? At 5 years old time was longer and slower than at 40, six weeks must mean forever.
I panicked when I sat down to write today, unable to remember if I’d posted last Monday, one week ago that feels like a month. Time has slowed down lately. And sped up too. There seems to be more hours in the day to get things done that I’m excited to do. And also, we went away for my cousin’s wedding this weekend, an event we’ve had on the books for months that I honestly can’t believe is now over.
Maybe this is my Savoring Era. I don’t feel rushed to achieve anything or pressure not to fail. It occurred to me very clearly this weekend that allowing your life to bloom means things unfold in perfect time. I was thinking about podcasting equipment and realized that I will figure out what I need when I need it, I have everything necessary for right now. If I get too ahead of myself, I won’t even know what to do.
Life as the metaphor, seed to flower to fruit, I can’t stop pondering it this week. While watching an old episode of Chef’s Table, Sean Brock explained the knowledge his grandmother passed down to him about farming and food. Priceless wisdom only someone with years and experience can provide. Fruit ripe for picking after a young life planting seeds and a mid-life of flowering.
I think I’m currently flowering. Bulbs are starting to blossom. Seeds I planted forever ago and forgot about are sprouting. For the first time I feel so content letting the orchard grow around me. Staring at clocks without the hope of time flying but instead with the knowledge that it will no matter what. In 30 years I wonder if I’ll still remember that 1:19pm or if it will have dropped away, replaced by too many memorable minutes. All fertilizer for the fruits I hope to be able to share when the time comes.
READING
I mentioned it two weeks ago but I am really loving Provence, 1970. It’s so nostalgic and relaxing.
WATCHING
I’m going to blame my hangover but I have spent the past three hours watching true crime documentaries on Netflix, which I NEVER do. Sins of Our Mother, was really f’d up but I slept through most of it and What Jennifer Did was like, YIKES.
LISTENING
Ina’s Dinner Party playlist on Spotify. lol.
Yeah so, I spent yesterday rediscovering my “love for tequila” as I declared in an IG story I don’t remember posting… hence my late entry here. We had a lovely weekend celebrating my cousin’s wedding. I’m immediately feeling the need to get another weekend trip in the calendar. It’s so nice to have a jaunt to look forward to.
Tomorrow Alan and I are shooting a cooking video! Very, very excited. It should come out this Friday so keep an eye out for it. I hope you are having a bright start to May. As always, thank you for being here, talk to you soon.
xoxo.
Time- what a wild ride 🌷
You have a beautiful way with words.