Taking Time

Yesterday while getting my blood drawn for a routine test the lab tech bemoaned the hurried pace of our society.

Take time to enjoy the day, she said. I thought that was a pretty funny thing to say to someone while poking them in the arm with a needle. Yep, getting stuck with needles is right at the top of my list of things to do to make the most of a day.

Of course then the phrase "take time" stuck in my head. Take time? Where? Where would time like to go? Seems to me that time already goes too quickly. (Unless you have a needle in your arm and then time moves at a disconcertingly leisurely pace.) Time doesn't seem to need my help getting anywhere. Wherever I go, time is already gone.

Take time? From whom? I can take MY time, sure, but can I take yours? I guess if I made you do something useless I would be taking your time too, but most people frown on that. If I take my time can I give it to you? When we do things for others which will free up some of their time. Then they can decide what they are doing with all that extra time.

But my whole problem with time is that once it's gone there's no getting it back. We can redo a task but we can never relive a moment. The remembering takes yet another moment. Time moves on whether I take it, waste it, make it or try to keep it.