This time…

Another high school classmate died three days ago. It shakes me. It makes things way too real and oh so precious at the same time. It makes me wonder – think a little deeper, and remember once again death nudges you, letting you know you cannot ignore the possibilities.

But angels lean on your back, prop you up and whisper its okay. Everything in its time. Yet some of us have less time than others.

I used to be afraid of death.  Of being buried under the ground, which only concerns those that are still alive when that happens. God forbid.

I’m not afraid of death anymore, I won’t know. I’ll go to sleep. At least I hope that’s how I’d go – no blaze of glory or a car accident – the last sounds of crushing metal and broken glass. A fire -so frightening. No way out, the thick air burns the lungs and feasts on oxygen. Nor drowning. That is a big fear of mine. To hold the breath as long as possible, till it screams and aches then a release of muscles held tightly, allowing water to fill up the body cavity. I can’t imagine the fear and the pain. Knowing there is nothing you can do. It is simply time. Time for this or that or death.

But life doesn’t stop after death – it doesn’t. Trees continue to lose their leaves, go to sleep, give birth to buds and green leaves, then repeat. The sun rises and sets whether I’m here or not. Children are born. Old folks pass on. Life -repeat. Memories -memories – I used to look at life in turns. It is your turn to have fun, first kiss, get married, give birth or not, be happy, be sad, celebrate and mourn. Then it’s my turn – but it happens way to fast – because someone else is in line behind me. It’s over before it begins, but not what you think. I wish I had slowed down and enjoyed the taste.  Like the first lick of an ice cream cone or bright red lollipop. That’s the sweetest isn’t it? Then when you realize, you’ve only a lick or two left, you regret the rush to enjoy it. Such is life.

I find myself missing my mother, my father, my brother, Uncle Andy, dear sweet Erica – and so many others the other day. The other day – I thought about each and every one of those I just listed and many, many others. They had their turn. “I” wanted their turn to be longer. I see that now. I miss them so much.  I wish they were here right now.  Here.  Now.   Now I’m here – for this moment – this time – this minute on this date. But a hundred years forward in April 2115 – I will not be here will I? Do we get another turn? And if we do – do we know we’d better use the time we have wisely?

Geez I’m so sick and tired of wasting time, I’m tired of feeling sad or bothered by the past times. I hate wishing time away – and yet we always seem to be doing just that- waiting for the next something to happen. THEN we’ll be happy. Bullshit. It doesn’t work that way.

And we usually don’t figure that out until it’s too late anyway. How can the human being be so smart and so stupid at the same time! Ha. Time. Tick, tick, tick, tock, tock, tock.

It’s raining today. I wonder – I wonder because I suppose I’ll never know if in April 2115 it will rain. Funny if it does. Doesn’t matter. It’s a silly question in this time. There is a chance though isn’t there?  A very real chance.

I wonder where I’d submit these musings of mine! Readers Digest or another publication that would share my thoughts and ideas. Wonder who else would read and listen and think like I do, or differently and share their views with me. Funny to think about, but it’s true. We all seem to find someone we want to connect with and be reassured we are not the only ones who feels this way or that way, about life, about ourselves, about time.

So the words come fast as I write. I’m alone in this room.  I hear the shower start upstairs and know my daughter is getting ready for her day of work. My older daughter sleeps on, her studies await her. As for me – well, I’ve got three poems I promised for an event.  I must drop them off tomorrow. Guess I’d better get busy and write them. Before I run out of time.

About Patricia Young

Patricia Young spent most of her life in the Northeast. Before the casinos arrived and many of the safety rails installed, she would hike Bushkill Falls and enjoy time in a little cabin by Meadow Lake near the Delaware Water Gap. The school year was spent in New Jersey, but many summers were spent in Mississippi where she wandered in the woods, rode horses, and read piles of comic books with cousins. After graduating from college with a degree in education, she taught fifth grade in Bayside, Queens. When rent climbed to high for her salary she working for the defense industry in Yonkers before starting a small business called, The Giving Tree Day Care. For fifteen years she was "held hostage by two-year-olds!" Writing every day in a notebook for each child to keep communication open to each family. Fast forward to the spring of 2013 diagnosed with severe carpal tunnel syndrome (she does NOT recommend having both hands done at the same time! Often wondering "What was I thinking?!") Physical therapy and time slowly began the healing process and gardening strengthened her hands. After an unexpected, but a deeply personal journey to Montana in the fall of 2013 she decided it was time to reinvent herself and embrace her fondness for writing. With renewed confidence, and a plan to do the work necessary to become a writer, she began writing every day (with the help of - thank you Kellianne and Buster!), submitting to a variety of magazines and contests to practice the craft. Attending writing retreats, workshops, lectures, taking classes, reading and immersing herself in the process. She began to work with writers and authors in the tri-state area. Currently living in Westchester New York Patty lives with her husband of 32 years, two dogs, two fish, and one cat in a little Cape Cod. The laughter, love, and support are plentiful. Patty has completed her first novel presently called "Northeast of 80". Working with her genre editor, she hopes and dreams and keeps fingers crossed to find an agent in the fall of 2019. You are invited to join her on this journey of a writer. To experience her trials, successes and stumbles along the way. Please share your own stories and maybe we can untangle some of the complexities of this writers life together. Breathe Deep, Think Peace
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to This time…

  1. Laura says:

    Loved this Patty. Reminds me to taste. Thank you.

    • Patty Young says:

      Thank you Laura! Please forgive my delay in responding. It was very kind of you to take time to write and here I am running in all directions I neglected to thank you! Thank You! Hugs!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.