Time keeps on slipping, slipping, slipping....

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A not-quite-complete Cornflower block, the perfect pictorial example of Past, Present, and Future Me.

This past weekend Future Me and I crossed paths, but not in our usual way, her in the distance and me trying to ascertain what she's hoping I'll gather from her scattered pearls of wisdom. This time we practically sat side by side as I chatted with sisters from my various walks of life. Conversations about knee replacements and shoulder surgeries were rife between myself and these marvelous women while Future Me quietly cleared her throat, grasping my hand tightly as though trying to maintain her presence as well as keep my attention focused on so many subjects; precarious health as one ages, gratitude for recovery, thankfulness for friendships, and the knowledge that all of us aren't as young as the grandkids clamoring for our attentions.

Future Me tagged along as I went from household to household in my hometown, stealthily admonishing me to revel in these exquisite discussions that veered to talks about Lego goats and Bluey, lol. Much time was also spent chatting with my daughter and grandsons, but Future Me slipped away, probably for a coffee, during those sessions. Future Me reemerged when I was paired with a beloved my own age, not as a warning that my time with that sister was waning, but more to bolster the sense of how far we have come since being four or eight or twelve or thirty years old. Our achy knees and other creaky joints certainly remind of our advanced years, but something else was fueling Future Me's rare agenda so closely tethered to Present Me. Which is now Past Me, but only just, a little confusing I understand, but aligned to my current fictional WIP, steeped in temporal displacements. Not that my timeline is askew per se, but rather I'm starting to grasp how time keeps on slipping, slipping, slipping...into the future.

Present Me grasps how tenuous are these moments that separate Past Me from Future Me, however Future Me wanted to integrate herself into the NOW, as though saying: Despite how good you feel today, no longer is youth something to claim or desire or lament not possessing. Right now is all that matters, and while I exist in your timeline, live as though no future awaits. Seize this minute. Dwell in this beautiful, marvelous sliver of time. Excise regrets. Embrace current limitations, for they will only increase in number and severity. And foremost, express love and kindness until your eyes are either brimming with tears or closing from exhaustion.

Well okay, uh-huh, you got it, ahem! Yet I didn't roll my eyes at her treatise. I patted her leg, silently thanking her for these priceless nuggets of pure gold, glittering as though the real treasure. Driving home yesterday I didn't feel old or irrelevant, although I was hot, itching to be back in my temperate Humboldt County. I wished for cool weather while pondering a new chapter in my life, that of an elder within my family. My mom died five years ago, but in no way was I prepared for the mantle of matriarch. Subsequent passings have recently crystalized my place among those I cherish, not that I want to rule anyone's roost but where I call home. Yet home is a fleeting term, as we are transient beings. Future Me suddenly seems able to breach dimensions, not that I felt she wished to set roots in the here and now. But my here and now isn't how it was when the grandkids were tiny, or even what it resembled twelve months previously. Here and now is this post, a cup of delicious Yorkshire Gold tea (with a splash of milk), and some Halloween fabrics in dire need of being turned into four and a half inch squares. Here and now is fast turning into flashes of memory which finds me grasping healthy hands and knotted digits as Past, Future, and Present Me begin a journey once considered eons away. No matter your age, I pass along Future Me's manifesto: Embrace this moment; it will never come again.


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