I Hurtle

I had a conversation with a man today.  He was talking to me about his grandma and the doctor telling him she needs to go in to a nursing home.  Though the grandson understands it and knows it to be true he said something that I cannot shake from my thoughts.

He said:  “she worked all of her life and did everything she was supposed to do and now all she wants to do is go home and be left alone.  And she can’t.”

I’ve heard this in different variations over the years.   And to quote him he emotionally acknowledged on her behalf  that  “this sucks”.   Fully understanding this terminology – I agreed.

Because it struck me today, that this  could be any of us.

Today as this man spoke I had visions of his grandma working, as I worked today, and will work tomorrow, and will work gladly for years to come.  I look forward to going home daily.  I look forward to going home.   I look forward to home.  Everything I do is always revolving around going back to home.  I never do anything when I leave without the anticipation of going home after the doing of this something.  Home.  Wanting to be home.  That resonated with me so powerfully.

And right this minute I am trying to slow down my hurtling self flying through time.  I have this vision of me windmilling through the space and length and breadth of my life.  Arms flailing.  Legs churning.   And I cannot slow it down to enjoy it even more.  I can’t.  I just hurtle.

Right this minute I want time to reign it’s self in.  All of the years I sat as a child in a classroom just pleading with time to hurry up and get me out of there.  All of the times I suffered through real or perceived difficult times and I begged for time to get me to a different point in my life.  All of the times I sat mindlessly watching TV because ‘there was nothing else to do’.  All of the time I was waiting for something planned and wonderful and ignoring the time I had to spend on anything I wanted in the interim.

Time fought with me when I begged it to hurry up.   And now that I am fighting with it to slow down it fights me yet again!

Curses to you time!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And time fights me still.

I know I am hurtling through my life with a speed that I cannot control.

I am at a point in my life where she once was.

And she’s at a point now that when she was where I am she did not see it coming.

I think it is seldom that we stop and think of ourselves as old or older.   I think we generally think of ourselves as we are or how we used to be.   And as we are, is who we shall always be.  Or so we hope.

Where I once cursed the speed of time for it’s sluggish progression I now curse it for the rampant and thoughtless care of rushing me through to the end.

Did she feel the same?  At any point did she realize the speed at which time shot  her like a speeding bullet through her life to find herself at  this  point.   A point  she did not anticipate.   Old.  Weak.  Dependent.  Cursing the world that doesn’t see her as she sees herself.   Angry at a world that just won’t let her go home.

I can’t shake this man’s comment.   And I can’t shake this vision of myself hurtling through the atmosphere of my life.

Shooting Through Life