The thought keeps rising in my mind about the idea of lost time. We've lost so much time. March, April, May...all of spring went by without the usual awakenings. Sure, nature did her thing. Flowers bloomed, fruit ripened, temperatures warmed. Some rain, some sun, some morning, some night. But what of the rites of spring? And now June has gone, too. Summer has begun. Did it "bust out all over"? If it did, I really didn't notice.
And now it is July first. Even the weather has been off. Is the corn as high as an elephant's eye? We there be firework displays in the usual places instead of every night in every neighborhood, scaring small animals and battle-scarred veterans?
I wish I had been more productive during these first months in the Time of Covid. Instead I stayed to myself, isolated, shopped online. I attended some zoom meetings with friends and church services. Little did those folks know how this became so important to me. Connection. I miss connection, I think. And freedom. I miss getting in the car and just driving somewhere. To Trader Joe's or the botanical parks or a museum. A movie. Up the coast.
Lost time. Time is never lost. It's currency is spent as we see fit. Did I waste my time? No, I don't think so. All of this has been valuable in its own way. Sometimes I felt like armageddon had come. Or perhaps the rapture. And here I was, left behind. And yet I never really despaired. I just hunkered down. I knew we would move through this season of the plague. And I still know we will.
Lost time last time lost. Lost time doesn't last and this is the last time lost time will get to me. Since we really only have the "now", how can it be that time is lost? Sure, I'm a little older, maybe a bit wiser, but I am not lost. I am emerging from the haze of spring to do what I feel called to do. I am finally enjoying time with myself, my animals, and with readers like you with whom in the virtual reality of things, are always with me.
You can't lose time. There is no last time. Time is time. And that's about it.