Time Remaining

Heidi's Grandfather Clock With Moon Phases

Sitting at the laundromat, I let time stand still a little .  The rhythm of the washing machines, the hum of the driers, and the heavy sound of the pop machines, make a comfort of noise around me.  The two pop machines are large enough (and probably using as much energy) to hold two huge elk.    The little red lights, by the coin dispenser, continually say "ENJOY REFRESHING DRINK NOW", as they scan past, over and over.  I smell a cigarette, probably coming from the restroom.  

Time stands still because I'm not orchestrating what will happen.  It happens and I observe.  It's a refreshing role, after measuring every inch of my new apartment to see what still needs getting rid of, and what I need to specifically purchase to fit in a sixteen by eighteen inch space.  Or a triangular space.  Measuring is out of my league.  Unless it's a corner cabinet, meant for a corner, I don't even try.  I'd be so embarrassed to bring a piece of cardboard to a store to find something.  It would have to be cut out in the size of the space.  I can picture myself setting on top of furniture pieces to see if it is the right size.  I guess I could write on one side of the cardboard with a Sharpie, "Mathematically Challenged, Please Don't Stare".

A young woman is reading an e-mail from a professor from her computer, to someone on her phone (through her i-phone earphones).  At another blue booth, a young woman is arguing with her mother (she's old enough to not be opposing her mother, she should be helping)  But, by the tone of her mother's voice, it's probably deserved.  There are many men in here, too.  Some look about 18 and one looks like he's going on 80.   They seem more at home waiting for the laundry.  They don't look like they're multi-tasking.  A few are looking at the wall t.v. screens and others are flipping through magazines. 

There's something unique about waiting for my laundry to finish.  I can't hurry the process.  I know how long it will take by the looking at the little screen on the machine. "Time Remaining" it says and under it is a number of minutes left before it's done.  

Bosphorus Traffic

I wonder if I'd relax about my life, if I had a little screen I could look at.  One that told me "time remaining".  I wonder what I'd do differently, if I knew.  Would I be less frustrated with detours that occur in life, or would they exasperate me more.  

The mystery and unknown of the "time remaining" motivates me to mash those potatoes smooth and creamy.  It makes me determined to simplify my goals and let the distractions come at me as they will.  Not to let them chunk up in front of me, lumpy and forever unfinished.  I have to live as much of the rest of my life, as if I have "all the time in the world".  

My FIrst Grade Classroom

Teaching first graders helped me culture this mindset.  A wealth of patience is never enough for those little ones.  So, waiting and giving them space is what is needed. If I acted like I had "all the time in the world"with them, they could be themselves.  At their own pace, in their own time.  Giving myself "all the time in the world" will let me be myself, at my own pace, in my own time.

I don't want to know "Time remaining".   I wish for myself never having the need to know.  I will cross the rivers as they come.  Whether they are raging or smooth, I will cross.  Avoiding them or looking for a bridge will only take longer.  I might avoid slipping on a mossy rock, or falling from the rushing current.  But, I won't be able to feel the cool, wet water hug my body, as I cross.  I won't appreciate the shore as it stretches out in front of me, waiting to embrace me, encouraging me to persevere.

The contradicting thought to this is, "retracing time".  Would I want an opportunity to "retrace time"?  Cross all those rivers?  The mud, the stones, the seaweed? The smelly muck, the dark brown rivers colored with tannic acid.  The over-my-head crossing places with crystal clear water, making the bottom seem easily waded through?  The stopping-off places I found myself quitting at, lying by the river.  I was content to let it flow by, knowing I'd quickly drown if I moved forward.  

River in Wisconsin-LaSalle

If I was to "retrace time" I would want the first time I fell in love, last forever-longer.  I would want the first time I realized I was smart, last longer.  I would look in the mirror and smile at myself more.   Love myself more.  I would want the time each of my girls were born, be set in slow motion, pain and all. I would close my mouth more.  Spend more time with my eyes open.  Take more time to grieve the lost of each stage of my life and my loved ones.  Take better care of my health.  Ask for forgiveness more.  Shout and protest injustices more.  Demand the truth, sift through the lies and stand naked in front of my enemies and friends more.

Me, Standing by Beach in Istanbul

No, it wouldn't be right.  If I don't want to know "Time remaining",  then I can't wish for "Retracing time".  Both are playing God.  I have to remain the pilgrim.  Happy to traverse the rivers as they are, as I am.  I'm good enough.  The "time remaining" is enough.