April 24, 2017

To Quote a Song: Time Keeps on Slipping into the Future

Janine Pineo Photo

Janine Pineo Photo

• By John F. Chisholm •

Fall holds me hostage every year.  Like being stuck behind another driver going 30 in a 50 zone, I know that it can’t last.  Either he’ll turn left or right ― eventually ― or I will.  But in the meantime, I’ve got a schedule to meet, a million things waiting to be done that rely on me ― solely ― and it drives me crazy.  (A very short trip.)

Everything I want to do takes time.  I know that.  But getting past that roadblock is a lot harder than simply being aware of it.

I sincerely hope that this fall was an anomaly.  It was unbelievably hectic.  My daughter moved in next door.  Her foundation, gray-waste field, kitchen cabinets and counter tops, hearth, woodstove and chimney installations all needed completion right along with my normal fall chores.  Let’s face it, those go on for pages.

All that activity set a frantic pace.

But there’s something very odd about that.  I found myself going faster and faster while getting less and less done, as if the speed itself required more energy than the work.

Finally, it snowed this week, a bit more on each of Sunday, Monday and Tuesday.  Altogether, we got better than six inches in Levant.

Okay, it was inevitable.  Fall turns into winter, we all know that.  I just imagined that there’ll be more time before it did.  But no.  There’s not.  Not this year.

That snow slowed me down.  Boom!

Suddenly, all those fall jobs that I hoped to complete, the fence repair (the bottom strand still needs replacement, all the way around), the rock lining of a section of drainage ditch, the pothole repair in the driveway and a few dozen more were placed on hold.  Indefinitely.  The way things go around here, all those tasks plus a few dozen more will still be around driving me stark, raving bonkers next fall.  But at present, I’m forced to sit back, take a deep breath and look around for other work, for the winter jobs that need completion, too.

That’s a happy ending.

Fall can’t hold me hostage any longer.  That slow poke in front of me has finally turned.  It takes a few minutes to sink in, but that’s not a bad thing.  Because there’s something else I know, something else that I’m forever relearning:
Finding the joy in living takes time, too, but nobody I know wants to miss it.