Time Separated

Time. It is meant to change. It is meant to begin. It is meant to plan.

In youth, we ask for more (we ask for time to stand still) - to dance in the moonlight, take motorcycle rides and create musical notes that will secure us through our future.

Time.

In life, all we can do is hope and love. As we get older, we begin to teach our parents again about hope. Yes, they look at us like we are crazy, but all we have to do is remind them of the first kiss from grandpa.

Time.

Create a way to travel back in time. Enrollment. That’s what it takes to remember and embrace the past. Yes, it’s good to move on. But yes, screw that, it’s good to remember.

I remember dancing at a competition and looking at my parent’s gazing eyes. They thought I was purr-fect. Boy, they didn’t have a clue.

I remember basking in the musical notes during class (probably because music activates neuro-pathways and facilitates learning in other areas – just saying). I also remember Spanish class and the flush of excitement when I could speak fluently to my teacher.

I remember watching the sunset with a certain someone and realizing life can’t slow down enough.

I remember sitting still and just listening. Sometimes to tears; other times to the sound of leaves moving from the wind and then sometimes, to just this - my fingers on the keyboard. It’s different than a journal, but similar nonetheless.

Time.

I thought I could do anything. I remember then time. I fell in love, got my heart broken, pursued my dreams, developed and then fell in love again.

Guess what? Timing…it’s everything. At 30, I can truly say that life is full of surprises, full of wonderment, full of certainty. Sometimes when we want some great explorer to jump right in front and show us the world; what we get is someone who shows us the world is surrounding our every being. We can still dance outside in the moonlight, we can still hold onto hope and faith; most importantly, we can still remember the past, shed a tear and move on.