Our life is made up of time; our days are measured in hours, our pay measured by those hours, our knowledge is measured by years. We grab a few quick minutes in our busy day to have a coffee break. We rush back to our desks, we watch the clock, we live by appointments. And yet your time eventually runs out and you wonder in your heart of hearts if those seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years and decades were being spent the best way they possibly could. In other words, if you could change anything, would you?
Elizabeth’s hands flew to her mouth; tears filled her eyes with happiness as she realized he was fulfilling yet another of her and her mother’s intended activities. “Why are you fulfilling all of my mother’s dreams?” she asked, studying his face and searching for answers. “So you don’t run away like she did in search of them,” he replied, taking her hand. “Come on, join in!” he said, leaping around.
I always pushed myself. Whenever I felt I needed to stop, I made myself run faster.
Perhaps I’ve been rushing my whole entire life, jumping into things headfirst without thinking them through. Running through the days without noticing the minutes.
It's funny how people mark their lives, the benchmarks they choose to decide when the moment is more of a moment than any other. For life is made of them. I like to think the best ones of all are in my mind, that they run through my blood in their own memory bank for no one else but me to see.
.. then when the hurt goes, anger takes its place; when the anger runs out of system, loneliness steps in to take over. it's a never ending circle of emotions; every lost emotion being replaced by another.
Somewhere along the way, without me even noticing, I grew up Alex. For once, I couldn’t take advice from anyone around me about what I should or shouldn’t do. I couldn’t go running to mum and dad and I can’t compare my marriage to anybody else’s, we all follow our own rules.
You can run and run as fast and as far as you like, but the truth is, wherever you run, there you are.
Day-to-day things, the mundane, are what keeps the motor running. How extraordinary the ordinary really is, a tool we all use to keep going, a template for sanity.
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