It’s late, I note the time is 1:12am.
My window shade is up, letting the darkness settle into my room. The only source of light coming from the garage of the neighbors directly across from me.
I stare out into the quiet, shadowy street of my subdivision. It’s an even sleepier neighborhood when it’s the middle of the night.
Wish I could sleep.
I blow my nose.
I look at the clock again, like I do constantly when I can’t fall asleep. Only a minute had passed. Time sure goes by slow when no one is awake but you.
I summon mental pictures of my children.
My oldest, when he took his first steps on our front lawn with his parents jumping and cheering him on.
My daughter, a living Madame Alexander doll, running up my parents backyard hill and getting frustrated because she kept falling backwards.
My little one, I think about his birth.
Grateful for these, I keep pulling them out of forgotten memory albums.
How I wish…
How I miss…
But time, it never stops.
It takes a moment and whisks it quickly away, filing it as a memory where it waits to be recalled.
If it can be recalled.
I sigh loudly, hoping my husband is awake and wants to talk.
No such luck.
I look at the clock again.
It sure can stand still when it wants too.
I go back. Further. Further.
I’m in 4th grade. I’m visiting my grandparents in Florida.
I choke, I miss my grandfather. Has it really been almost 20 years since he died?
And Kyoto? Oh, Kyoto. My Siamese cat from childhood, gone for even longer.
I was just a kid myself.
I swear to G-D it was yesterday. I was them. They were me.
Now, I’m them, my parents.
I want to scream out the window and curse that invisible entity…TIME.
I want to beg for it to slow down.
It’s always moved to0 fast.
Just when I get caught up, it moves forward again.
Except when it’s the middle of the night.
Where the only memory being stored for recollection is the fact that time doesn’t move when there is nothing worth remembering.