Twenty (or so) years ago, my journalism professor Wiley Hilburn wrote “TIME IS INEXORABLE” in the margin of a piece I wrote for my weekly column as the editor of our college newspaper. The column was my last before graduation. In it I talked about my attempts to freeze moments of my last days on campus in my memory. Now, Mr. Hilburn’s words keep floating to the surface of my brain. I thought I had TONS of time to pack, purge, go to lunch, go to dinner and generally be ready to move. Suddenly all the time I thought I had seems to have caught up with me.
I no longer have open days for lunches, evenings for dinners, or afternoons for playdates. The days and nights are filled. All the food in my freezer will not get eaten and I have to resign myself to that fact. I have five more outfits I need for work in Charlotte. I have five more nights in my dear house.
What happened to all the TIME I thought I had!?
Mr. Hilburn was right about time. It is inexorable. It moves without stopping. No amount of wishing or hoping or ignoring (I’m quite expert at that) will stop it. I’m just running trying to catch up with it. Like the quintessential movie character running, hand outstretched, to catch the last handle on the train caboose before it chugs off into the distance without me.
And yet…what am I doing now. Writing, certainly, but more importantly, watching the Property Brothers. See what I said about ignoring…
They moved our Packout date to Aug. 18 (yes, that is Monday) so we have one less day for packing, sorting, purging. Kindly the USG will pay for us to stay for up to 10 days in a hotel, so we had a hotel in Charlotte booked for the 19th-22nd – somewhere within walking distance to both my office and C’s daycare. But now we need a room on the 18th too and, wouldn’t you know it, the hotel hasn’t got a single room open for Monday night (bizarre, right?). So we can either move hotels which, needless to say is not my first choice, or spend the night in C’s room using the blow up bed and her trundle (it is built-in, so it is staying).
I’m leaning toward “camping” in C’s room. After all, we’re going on an adventure – why shouldn’t it start in our own home?