Sunday night already? We work our way through the weekdays yearning for the weekend and then it’s here and gone again in less time than it takes to perk a pot of coffee to drink with the Saturday morning paper.
I don’t get it. I don’t understand time. When I was a child a day was endless. I ate and napped and played the hours away, unaware of time until I received the five-minute pre-bedtime warning. But as an adult I’m stunned at the progressive speed with which my days keep shrinking. Twenty-four hours are twenty-four hours. How can the length of a child’s day be different from mine? Einstein’s theory suggests it may have something to do with time dilation… the difference in time being due to differing perspectives.
Time may be just an intellectual concept but at the rate it’s passing I’m wondering if there will be any of it left when I reach my venerable dodderage. Or at that point will I wake up, acknowledge it’s morning, and then roll over and go back to sleep because it’s already night again? Maybe if I become senile and return to child-like ways my days will begin to get longer?
This is much too cerebral for a Sunday evening. I think I’ll head for bed. It may be morning before I get there.
MUSINGS 
Lordy, Careann, now I’m really depressed. lol. My mother-in-law is 93 this year. The way she sees it, life is moments of clarity mixed with a blurred daze. When she does sleep, her dreams are so vivid that she’s exhausted with she wakes. Of course, those times are while everyone else is sleeping. When night comes, her brain won’t shut off.
Sadly, when she was 90, she woke grateful for another day. Today she wakes up and wonders what God has against her. She still has a great sense of humour.
Wonderful delightful post.
A few years ago an 89-year-old woman we knew took three other ladies of similar ages on a car trip with her around the province, stopping to golf in various locations. At 90 she broke her hip and her general health then began to fail. She had always been so active and bright and we feared she would become depressed by her confinement. But when visitors asked how she was doing she said with a big smile, “Oh, I’m just fine thank you, but my body is wearing out.” She remained cheerful until she died at 92. She was a blessing to so many. I hope when I reach my “venerable dodderage” I’ll retain some of that kind of grace.
Then again, I may sleep through my old age. đŸ™‚