Time is a 4 letter word.
Like fuck , like love.
Today I wished a friend “ all the time in the world” as if time were a commodity, like money. But contrary to popular belief time is not money. Time is time, slippery, ungraspable, “never-enough-of” time. And yet we make time, or take time continually.
My friend has a desire to write a book, and that takes time. So I told him he had to make time. But that takes time he said. So I simply wished him time. All the time in the world. As if I were a billionaire in hours, or the head of the State Chronological Lottery Board.
Wouldn’t that be something if you could buy a lottery ticket and the prize was time?
What would you do with all that time?
Spend it on a lavish world cruise?
Feed the time-hungry like mothers, or work-a-holics?
Would you keep doing what you’re doing , only longer?
The first thing my friend would do is quit his job.
Would you quit your job?
I don’t think I could.
More time , more gardening.
Maybe all the fruit trees would get pruned this year, and the grapes, too. Maybe I would finally get one bed totally weed free.
Or read all the greatest gardening books of all time.
There it is again, that 4 letter word.
“ Time isn’t after us,
Time isn’t holding us”
David Byrne of the Talking heads sang those words more than 20 years ago, when youth perhaps made him believe he had all the time in the world. Would he sing about time running out today?
Does time run out on us? Or do we run out of time?
“ Time’s up!” the game show host calls out.
So maybe time is not win-able, or make-able, or even take-able.
But it sure is enjoyable.