Some Time

I am thankful for the illusion of time. Some raise children and wonder where the time went. When my children are grown I know I won't wonder, because I am here, practically every minute of their lives. I tell them "God cleans Manhattan every year with snow at Christmas."

I tell them "the Muppets are coming back in-vogue" and read the corresponding The New York Times story out loud, over hot drinks at Starbucks. I clip their fingernails and find their blankies when lost at 1:00 a.m., then 2:30 and 5:05. This is my point in time. I am here. In 2025, today will be part of another life, but today I have time. Time to re-group after a too-long lecture on behaving well; time to live the day again, to get it right in their presence. Time to read them another chapter of The Great Brain or stop to chat with Rabbi Barry or apologize for a short temper or hold the baby until she calms. Time to hope may be someday, my children will believe the chasm between things hoped for and real life is just a tiny crack in daily living.