We bought our DVD player before Daylight Savings Time (DST) was pushed forward and backward last year. So it caused some serious consternation in the household this morning when a glance at the DVD clock indicated my husband was seriously late for a gig. After a yelped curse and some frantic scrambling for socks and shoes, we figured out the slip of time. Our DVD was hardwired to the old DST. Crisis averted.
But it did get me thinking about “how time flies.” How the hours slide by without us much noticing, until we look at the clock and discover it’s far later than we thought. And we wonder what we were so damn busy paying attention to while time flowed by.
In July 2006, my dad sent me this poem he wrote. Although I think it’s even better described as a short story. Give it a read. Then turn the clocks back and take a look around.
Accouterments of a Life
Whether returning home to the stillness of now silent rooms
from a frenzied rush to the Vet to end the suffering of a long-time companion, or returning from the graveside services for a loved one, the senses are sharpened — so they say.
A water bowl, half empty, never to be used again; toys long unused but still kept near; a leash and collar hanging quiet for want of a walk;
A wife’s comb laying on the vanity; a tube of half-used lipstick; a book on her side of the bed, bookmarked; reading glasses carelessly set aside;
A husband’s keys hanging from a wall peg; a pile of dirty work shirts ready for one last wash; tools resting quietly where last set down; a note, hastily written, “Back soon. Just going to the store”;
A child’s bike resting against the house; a school bag filled with last week’s homework; new mittens for the coming cold; a model, half finished;
Best toss them out — so they say.
Just reminders, best to forget –- so they say.
They’re probably right. Life goes on –- so they say — eventually.