I was driving this morning and an odd thought came to mind. A lot do usually, regardless of what my life is like now or what it was like before Bea was diagnosed. I'm a pretty random thinker but somehow manage to pull it all together before I let lose with real spoken words. Usually.
Anyway, so I thought about how time felt when I was a child. My memory says that days felt like weeks comparable to now. Summer break was a blissful eternity. The days leading up to Christmas were agonizingly slow. Eating an ice cream cone took an hour. Doing homework felt like days. I was consciously consuming every second. Everything seemed important. I hadn't learned how to gloss over a beautiful day or smiling face or pass up the opportunity for a good conversation with a friend. I don't remember just trying to get through the day so that I could deal with the next one. It was all important right then. This is how I remember now and I'm assuming that's how it felt back then. This is how I'm trying to live my life now but it's all just passing so darn fast.
So, I thought about how Bea and Lewis feel time now. How many years did Lewis live when Bea was gone in the hospital? How many hours pass for Bea when she's at the doctor's office, even though the visit is less than 60 minutes? How many weeks was our visit with relatives in Charleston? How many days are in a week for them? How many hours in a day? Does time have a different pace for them than for me?
I sure hope so because I plan to get a lifetime into the next 12 months.