“Yeah, all I remember is that when you’re younger time passes slower and then when you get older time passes really fast.”
I looked at her and managed to get out a not completely pitying smile. I don’t think I’m better than her, I’m just sad that my friend’s mom said those words with masked unhappiness. And very much deeper, un-maskable regret.
My first thought was I need to not turn into the many parents I’ve seen say those words in that way.
“Wow, is it April already? Time sure flies!”
“Hmm… No, I can’t really recall anything from the past three weeks. Just kind of a blur I guess.”
“Thank God it’s Friday, boy this week went fast!”
No. Stop. It’s not funny. This is your life. If you can’t remember the past three weeks then you’re doing life wrong. You cannot be a weekend warrior when the weekend is only two days out of seven.
Stop watching television when you get home from work, school, or whatever other obligation you have. Go to the park and walk. Go to a beach and just watch the sunset, thinking, and having your phone not even on silent. Turn that fucker off.
Pick up a pencil and sketch horribly. Go to your laptop and type your thoughts cringingly.
Do something that makes you feel anything. Because even if you’re cringing at something you’ve written, at least you’ll remember that moment three weeks later because of how visceral it is.
Go for a kiss and get rejected.
Go to a beach/park/mountain/city/harbor and turn off your phone. Then just… Watch. Think. Be with yourself.
Remember your life. Do not let it sift through your fingers. Remember your life and do things that matter so that you don’t look back on the past three weeks with regret because you don’t remember a thing.