Knowledgeably, time is an interesting thing. We wish for more of it, yet it passes us by without warning. It’s fluid, and moves throughout every crevice and corner, no victim safe. At times it appears to move slowly, and at others, far too quickly. There are days when we want time to stop entirely, and to stop existing as a concept overall. There are moments when we want time to speed up – perhaps when anxiously awaiting the arrival of a loved one, or a trip to another end of the world. Whatever the wish may be, time continues at its own pace, with its own determination.
Like the determination to see its first gray hair, or perhaps a last breath. Time can be good too. It has given us the warmth of an embrace from a long-distant friend, and the graduation caps that grace the air once a year. It’s the flowers that sprout in the spring, and the glacial spectacles that cover lonely trees. Time is our friend, time is our enemy. It cannot be touched or manipulated, despite the array of science-fiction saying otherwise.
Evidently we always wish for time to slow down, to let us catch our breath as we scramble to make meaning out of our existence. But perhaps the thing I took for granted, was how time allowed for progression. How it enabled us to grow, and experience opportunities. The memories it gave us, and the future it promised. The chance it gave us to conquer and soar, even if just an illusion.
Foremost, I never realized what would happen if we got our wish. If time slowed down, and allowed us to catch our breath. If nostalgic memories could become present realities. I never realized what would happen if time actually became manipulated and touched. Tarnished by something that was never meant to tarnish it.
Alas in my reality, time was not just touched. It was stolen.