Yesterday was Father’s Day. 20 showed us a photo. His children when they were kids. “Where does the time go?” he asked. Thirty years. “That was the blink of an eye.”
We put together a video collage for my dad using images dating from the time that Kerri first met him. Seven years. “Doesn’t that seem like yesterday?” We had a hard time remembering the order of events; what visit came first? We looked for clues. The length of my hair. The color of stripe on my dad’s shirt.
In one of the photo sequences we are in Iowa, the little town where my dad grew up. In the photos he is showing us the house his grandfather built, the house where his father grew up. It is tiny. Today, it is someone’s storage shed. To my dad, it is holy ground, the place where as a child he ran free. This was his last touch. His final visit.
We had a phone conversation with my sister. Her pandemic experience is vastly different from ours. To her, it is a minor inconvenience. “People just can’t stay in forever!” she exclaimed. “I’m worried more about the suicides than this virus.” Time, 100 days, to her community, is an eternity. “People gotta live!” she says.
Eternity. “What day is it?’ I ask. Kerri looks off into space. Weird calculus. “Thursday, I think.” she says from some far off place.
Locating ourselves is not so easy in these times. The landmarks are covered over. The geography is changed.
“What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” Mary Oliver asks.
What did you do with your one precious life? With this day, this time, pandemic or not?
We look at each other and laugh. “I’m getting old!” We cringe. Look at me!” We wear our age and it surprises us.
“Time,” Kerri sighs, looking in the mirror. “It is so strange.”
read Kerri’s blog post about TIME
Filed under: Identity, Merely A Thought Monday, Perspective, Uncategorized | Tagged: david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, eternity, father's day, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, locate, location, Mary Oliver, pandemic, Summer Day, time, time drags, time flies |
The Direction of Intention 
Leave a Reply