I have a neighbor who I usually only see when I’m walking the dog and he’s driving by in his car. Every now and then he stops, then rolls down his window and tells me about his daughter. It’s usually about a landmark event in her life.
Yesterday, he rolled down his window and said, “M. is turning 15 today.”
I congratulated him, bagged Sam’s poop and walked on home. I thought about the last time my neighbor rolled down his window and tossed out a proud tidbit about his lovely daughter.
“M. started high school today.”
That seems like just a few days ago, but I guess it's been about five months now.
Before that, it was, “M. graduated from middle school today, can you believe it?”
As I was walking back home yesterday, I realized that I can always count on this particular neighbor to mark time for me. Sure, I have a calendar and even a planner. But when each day just sort of rolls gently and evenly into the next, it’s easy to feel as if time doesn’t really pass.
My neighbor calls to my attention the thunderous and quick movement that time truly is.
3 comments:
And time will get you past this inconvenient medical interruption and back to the things that you are busy with and hold dear. When he rolls down his window to tell you she graduated from high school you can say I had breast cancer years ago and everything is ok now.
Verna...your entry is too cool...and yes, Gloria will definitely be having that conversation.
Thanks, Verna. Putting myself out into the future is what people often suggest I do at this point, but that is hard. Having the visual (some of us are so limited) cue of the rolling down of my neighbor's car window is really something I can hang onto. You are right; at M.'s graduation time, my breast cancer will be but a distant memory!
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