Today I’m finding myself really thinking a lot about the precious nature of time. A lot of my elders are in their 70s and 80s now, and I feel like I’m just a skip and a jump right behind them in the grand scheme of things.
The lyrics to Pink Floyd’s song “Time,” keeps ringing in my mind’s ear:
Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
Fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your hometown
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way
Tired of lying in the sunshine, staying home to watch the rain
You are young and life is long, and there is time to kill today
And then one day you find ten years have got behind you
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun
And you run, and you run to catch up with the sun but it's sinking
Racing around to come up behind you again
The sun is the same in a relative way but you're older
Shorter of breath and one day closer to death
Every year is getting shorter, never seem to find the time
Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way
The time is gone, the song is over, thought I'd something more to say
Home, home again
I like to be here when I can
And when I come home cold and tired
It's good to warm my bones beside the fire
Far away across the field
The tolling of the iron bell
Calls the faithful to their knees
To hear the softly spoken magic spells
I distinctly recall wishing hours, days, weeks, and months away as a younger man whether because I was anxiously anticipating a future event, fantasizing how things would be different when I was older, simply bored or incarcerated. Now I find myself attempting to father three children and feeling a lot like Adam Sandler in Billy Madison everytime they do something similar:
The lyrics to Pink Floyd’s song “Time,” keeps ringing in my mind’s ear:
Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
Fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your hometown
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way
Tired of lying in the sunshine, staying home to watch the rain
You are young and life is long, and there is time to kill today
And then one day you find ten years have got behind you
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun
And you run, and you run to catch up with the sun but it's sinking
Racing around to come up behind you again
The sun is the same in a relative way but you're older
Shorter of breath and one day closer to death
Every year is getting shorter, never seem to find the time
Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way
The time is gone, the song is over, thought I'd something more to say
Home, home again
I like to be here when I can
And when I come home cold and tired
It's good to warm my bones beside the fire
Far away across the field
The tolling of the iron bell
Calls the faithful to their knees
To hear the softly spoken magic spells
I distinctly recall wishing hours, days, weeks, and months away as a younger man whether because I was anxiously anticipating a future event, fantasizing how things would be different when I was older, simply bored or incarcerated. Now I find myself attempting to father three children and feeling a lot like Adam Sandler in Billy Madison everytime they do something similar:
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