It's devastating how quickly time passes. Four years was an entire college career, and here you are wading into the ocean that long ago. I could swear we were just there.
And what has happened since? Life, mostly, as it does.
Shots of the horizon rarely fail to capture my imagination. Where do the earth and sky meet? What is out there? How do I get there?
* * *
One of my POV characters is confronted with the reality that time passes too quickly. He is dead, but in his notebooks he expresses disbelief at his son's having recently turned seven despite it seeming like yesterday they were all coming home from the hospital.
This is hardly a novel thought. It's one I'm sure most of us have at some point. It can be haunting and daunting if we focus on it too much, which is why most of us don't. We jump back into the river and keep moving with life.
Our busyness, of course, doesn't slow the process. And the next time we come up for air we are again surprised by how much time has elapsed. This progression repeats itself until we are done here. It's a beautiful thing that is also tinged with sadness, or at least a longing for more.
* * *
Our finiteness is what defines us. Well, it's one of the things that defines us. Or describes us. We can't know where the earth and sky meet, what's out there, or how to get there. Beautiful and sad. Like life.
So we just keep moving, holding on and letting go at the same time. We pay attention to what we think is important and hope we are right.
Someday we'll all look back on this and laugh. And breathe our final breath.