In Quick Time


The more I slow down, the more rapidly the days seem to slip by. This oxymoron dominates my thoughts in those wee hours when I am trying valiantly to sleep. The awareness of how quickly my life is advancing into its third trimester plugs up my throat until I find it hard to breathe. I fumble for the door key, open the sliding glass doors and slip out onto the patio to gulp the cool night air.

The dogs circle round, Morrie drops hopefully in front of me, a ubiquitous green tennis ball in his jaws. There must be one of those balls hidden behind every plant in my garden.  Just four months ago, I had bought five tubes of them at the sports goods store—each containing three balls. I was about to set out on my yearly  two-month trip to the ocean. I wanted the house sitters to be well-supplied in everything, and the balls were on sale, so I had purchased what I thought would be a lifetime supply. But those balls seem to have vanished as quickly as the two months since my return home had. Two days ago, I had purchased two more tubes of balls. They sit unopened in the doggie supply vault that stores the large bin of dry dog food, a small fridge that holds the wet food I add to the dry food twice daily when I feed them, and other doggy paraphernalia: leashes, collars, medicines, rawhide bones, doggy biscuits.

And so this is a ball he must have rapidly reclaimed from some garden shadow when he heard my key in the lock to the terrace. I bend and reclaim the ball, then throw it over the pool down into the lower garden. Almost as soon as my arm falls to a vertical position, he is back with it again––everything in life seeming to speed up as I slow down.

Now, hours of insomnia and fewer hours of sleep later, I hear him whining on the other side of the security bars outside the open bedroom sliders. He would now have his morning come on more rapidly as I lie, computer on chest, writing my morning blog. I have slowed the world down for long enough. I find an appropriate ending and swing my feet to the floor, in search of Crocs. Time to get in line with the faster world’s schedule, at least for the time it takes to feed the dogs and cats.

 

Click on any photo to enlarge all.

The prompt today is rapid.

8 thoughts on “In Quick Time

  1. hirundine608

    It brings up that fundamental, “life’s a bitch and then you die”.
    People usually, ignore the basic end game. That’s why certain yoga practices flourish. The notion of practising dying. Yet death should not be viewed as end but as a new awakening. Corny, as hell. Yet i find some measures of comfort in that. Cheers Jamie

    Liked by 1 person

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  2. Marilyn Armstrong

    I buy the “low bounce” balls for Duke — Bonnie and Gibbs don’t get the whole ball thing, but anything with a squeaker is heaven — and each back comes with 12 balls. At this point there must be 50 of them sequestered somewhere. They show up sometimes, too and then, because they are usually way beyond unsanitary, I wash them Yuck.

    Duke is fast. I am not fast. I thought I would stride into age, but instead, I’m barely getting there at all. Maybe we lived too fast when we were younger and we used up all our speed?

    Liked by 2 people

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  3. isaiah46ministries

    Wonderful. You read my mind. Lately, I have thought of my closer to the end of my life than the middle, and it gives you cause to pause and think about how to spend the next years, especially when we do not know just how long.

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  4. calensariel

    I sure have that sense of life speeding up and slowing down. I guess for me it just depends on the mood of the day. Some days I’m hopeful that I’ll have ten more years. Some days I’m scared to death that I WILL have ten more years! Make sense?

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