Is it July?
Half of 2019 is over. Where has the time gone?
Seems that as we grow older we keep asking this same question.
I have noticed I do this more often lately as time zooms by me, and that I do so with the same sense of stunned surprise like when I first realized I had become a grandmother.
If that isn’t a milestone, I don’t know what is.
Coincidentally, it will be 44 years ago this month, on the 17th, when my first grandchild was born. Michelle is the first child of my firstborn, and 26 years ago on a Christmas Day, she gave me my first great-grandchild.
So, please bear with me as I ask again, “Where has the time gone?”
Today I see my grandchildren all grown up, married or getting married, raising their own children, announcing new business ventures, promotions at work, or stellar advancements in school.
And I am amazed at how it seems that in the blink of an eye, one chapter ends and a new one begins.
How true the words of the wise man that said: “You will never have this day with your children again. Tomorrow, they will be a little older than they are today. This day is a gift. Breathe and notice. Smell and touch them. Study their faces and little feet and pay attention.”
I didn’t do enough of that. What a shame.
But today, while I find myself bewailing the countless aches and pains of my years, I realize I am incredibly fortunate that despite the creaking and cracking of my bones, I am up and about to witness these transitions.
What a privilege it is to be here, not quite ringside perhaps, but up close enough to watch it all unfold.
I am blessed to see my great-grandchildren growing taller and getting smarter, and it thrills me to see them seriously teach me how to download this, upload that, and show me what the latest iPhone can do; and to notice their quiet amusement when I tell them: “But I was happy with the old one. Why did they have to change it all again?”
Patiently they walk me through yet another new “but Lola it’s so simple” function.
When did I become the pupil and they the teachers?
How I wish they were still at the “tell me a story” stage, when I was in complete command of our time together, when all their attention was focused on my never-ending stories and me.
I felt like the legendary Lola Basyang, telling them about interesting people and faraway places.
‘Tempus fugit!’
Time flies and how we spend it is our decision.
US poet and biographer Carl Sandburg called it the coin of life.
“Time is the coin of your life. It is the only coin you have and only you can determine how it will be spent. Be careful lest you let other people spend it for you.”
No matter what we do, whether we spend it well or waste it, time has a way of sweeping past us, taking all our moments, happy and sad, to places from where there is no return. You cannot call them back or do it over. Time flows like a river, relentlessly, and stays on course, never moving back. You can’t chase time. You can’t catch up.
We can only do what we can, the best way we know how, in the here and now.
Where does time go?
I often imagine there’s a place somewhere out there in space where time goes, carrying all the minutes and hours we have used up wisely or otherwise. Is that also where our memories are stored? I wonder.
I have been told that one should not run after the past. We are advised not to visit what used to be.
But like it or not, our minds often travel there. Our thoughts stray to times long gone by, to what it was like, good or bad. And we revel, or we cry, and we dwell there a bit, trying to recapture some of the magic we once knew, even only in our thoughts.
When there is more to remember from the past than there is for you to look forward to, you tend to go back more frequently. It does not matter what memories return to you. There is no fear. You know who you are in the story. Never mind that it was not too happy. No matter that it was not magical.
You feel safe there. And you bask in the happy times. The bitter stuff is over. All has been resolved and dealt with, done.
Suddenly the memories taste sweet. And we find the courage to make some new ones.
Some years ago, I saw my best friend slowly lose all her memories. I saw the lights go out in her beautiful green eyes. It was heartbreaking.
I console myself imagining that she, and others stricken with the same devastating disease, simply lost their way behind an ugly gray fog and wandered off into the darkness. Or maybe they found something better in that vastness that lies beyond; decided to move on and just forgot to say goodbye.
I miss you, Elizabeth.
Last call!
“Binondo, A Tsinoy Musical” plays at The Theatre at Solaire on July 12 at 8 p.m., July 13 at 3 and 8 p.m., and on July 14 at 3 p.m. “Binondo” is a romantic tale set to music by Von de Guzman.
In the lead roles are Sheila Valderrama Martinez and Arman Ferrer. Joel Lamangan directs. Choreography is by Douglas Nierras. The libretto is by Ricky Lee.
Tel. 8919999