Copyrights reserved by the author. If you are in doubt, please click on 'Copyrights' and read the details.The slower we get, the faster time passes us by by J. G. Fabiano Another year has come and gone. The one thing I have learned about time is the more time one has behind him the faster the future arrives. I remember, when I was young, thinking time was something I could only understand from a clock. It never felt like it was flying by. In fact, time always took too long. It seemed like an eternity until I was allowed to drive. Christmas night felt like a century as I lay in bed waiting for the morning so I could run down to our Christmas tree in order to open presents I always knew were waiting for me. Today it seems like only yesterday when my wife and I celebrated the beginning of a year that is soon to be a part of our past. We rarely go out anymore on New Years Eve because after a month of celebrating the Christmas season we are partied out and in need of some quiet time at home. Since there is some time between Christmas and New Years I started thinking of ways to tell time that had nothing to do with a clock. Ever since BJ’s Wholesale Club came into being, my wife and I shop there to buy things we know we need a lot of. One of these items is brown paper bags that hold my lunch I take every day during the school years. I remember laughing at my wife when I tried to pick the thing up. It was huge and I never thought we would ever have to buy another bag again. The other day I grabbed what was the last bag. A strange sensation enveloped me with the knowledge the last of something I never thought I would ever have to buy again was taken away by time. Another means of feeling the concept of time, instead of just telling what it is, is having one’s favorite pen run out of ink. In my youth I never had a pen run out of ink because I usually lost it or it was relegated to become part of an arsenal of pens that were pushed into an old beer mug that was once a present from a person who was obligated to give me something. Working on my bills a few days ago I was shocked to see my pen was actually running dry. I remember buying this particular pen not so long ago at a Rite Aid store. It had a thick rubber wrapping around where one usually puts one’s fingers in order to write. This was very comfortable for me and I was glad I spent the extra money on it. But now it was gone. Had I wrote too many things with it or did time once again steal something I thought I would always have. Toothpaste is another inanimate object I never remember running out of in my youth. This is probably because I never had to buy it. This is still true today because my wife handles this particular part of our family. I remember seeing this cylinder of paste not so long ago. We no longer have the traditional tube because it was much too messy and it was not the modern thing to do. This modern cylinder of toothpaste was clear and displayed the red, white, and blue color of what was supposed to be different types of paste that cleaned in different ways. The white colored paste was for cleaning, the red colored paste was for breath freshening, while the blue colored paste was supposed to keep one’s teeth white. Pressing as hard as I could on the lever that was on top of the cylinder, trying to get that last spurt of paste in order to brush my teeth, clean my breath, and whiten what coffee long ago had made my teeth brown I came to the realization this particular item had run out. In my mind’s eye I wondered how many days had passed where this thing became part of my morning routine. It would now have to be replaced because time demanded it. Paper clips are another means of telling the passing of time. I paper clip everything. I also don’t buy the normal size clips. I buy the giant ones because I always believed big is better. I am always proud of myself when I buy the box of clips because I realize I will never run out of them. As with the toothpaste, I found myself digging through the top drawer of my desk hoping to find one more paper clip so I could safely attached the check that was to pay a bill. I have a hard time understanding how I could run out of something that seemed like only yesterday I thought I had enough of. Time can be such a nuisance. The classic way to tell that time is passing is from what you wear. I love Christmas Days when you first put on the presents your family bought you because they love you and clearly understand that last year’s pants or last year’s shirts had come to the end of their existence. The new clothes always feel great and you believe they will always be a part of your wardrobe. But, then another Christmas morning arrives and that favorite sweater or pair of pants becomes pushed into a bag to be delivered to a Good Will or Salvation Army dumpster. I wonder if some unfortunate has the same feeling when he puts on my old clothes as I feel when I put on my new ones. I don’t like what I feel when I think this. Time can be so different to different people. Shoes are something I never could figure out how they wear out. They are made of leather and usually have thick soles to protect ones feet. Living in Maine I always had the type of shoes that were more like boots. This is the only way I could survive our long winters. When I first wear them they are a little stiff and sometimes cause blisters to form on my toes or even on the bottom of my feet. After awhile my feet conform to my boots or the other way around. They become comfortable and an intrinsic part of my life. I never notice when they wear out. I keep putting them on in the morning and take them off at night. My wife is the person who notices a broken stitch or a worn-out sole. When she tells me it is time to get new shoes I usually tell her I just bought the pair I had a year ago. She smiles and tells me I have been wearing the same pair of boots for the past five years. I then quickly come to the conclusion that time tricked me into thinking only a year had past. Time has a tendency to do just this. Of course the best way to tell time is to simply look into a mirror but this is much too frightening for me. I would rather have to buy a new block of brown paper bags, find another pen that will fit my hand, discover another color of toothpaste, find that last paper clip in the bottom of my desk drawer, or forget about a favorite shirt or pair of boots. I believe this is the best way to trick time into thinking it is tricking you. The End.
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