fly like an eagle. (steve miller band reference anyone?)

Life is just full to the brim of change.

Seasons of busy and seasons of slow.

Years of diapers and years of dentist appointments and years of watching kids play fill-in-the-blank sport.

Seasons of something.

Seasons of nothing.

And I have known days in my life that I have felt as if time was going backwards.

Seasons of such slow progress and such lethargic pace that I felt I had time to waste.

Time to spare.

Time to place hastily in a black trash bag and drop off at the Goodwill box in the parking lot outside of Target.

But this time, this season, this present life I am shaping today looks so different.

It’s still about time.

But now it’s so much more about time’s evaporation.

Time’s elusive slip slip slipping out of my grasp.

And I’m not talking about the generic “time” as in this time of my  life when my kids are young or this time of my life when I still have a toddler in diapers.

I’m talking literal here.

Real time.

The tick tock of the clock.

The minute hand spiraling out of control until it flips off its tiny axis.

My days explode from the moments before my eyes peel open in their dry, sad contact-less state.

There is never a point in my day that I say, “Hmmm.  Look at this time, how should I spend it?”

I am surprised every time that I glance at the clock.  Shocked, actually.

“Are you kidding?” I groan internally.  Externally too.  12:30 already?  Who’s going to feed these kids?

“What?  10:00 o’clock?  Doesn’t anyone know when children are supposed to go to bed in this house?”

It’s crazy.

My lists have acquired lists.

The kids and I are busy all the live long day.

And it’s not with piano lessons or errands or field trips to the zoo.

For at least three days out of every week I don’t even have a car to leave the house.

We’re stationary a lot.

(As in, bound to one general space in the universe – this lovely abode.)

But out home is a blur of activity and at the end of every day I still have a notebook filled with ideas, projects, school subjects, chores and whatnot that I’ve never even thought about crossing off.

It’s no wonder I crash into bed every evening.

Seasons don’t last forever.

And so I am aware right now that this season, like all the others, will not endure.

But it seems, at times, an overwhelming abundance of evidence to the contrary.