I'm old enough now that I'm referencing a lot of my memories by the decade.
I suppose it’s not until you experience enough time slip through your hands that you finally understand the value of time itself. It's less about understanding it even, but embracing the idea based on your lived experiences. You come to see how all of these moments we're having are fleeting. You might be halfway across another bridge of life when you decide to stop and enjoy the view. Shit, you might even take your lunch break there, if you've packed accordingly. The bridge may be swaying as you take your seat and unwrap your backpack feast, but you've become no stranger to balance. You've slipped a lot, but you haven't fallen yet. Maybe it's the possibility of falling that makes you feel alive. The chances of a wind gust sending you to the ground below while gripping your sandwich and a napkin tucked in your collar are slim, but there's still a chance.
The first thing I did when I got home from my Navy daze was go to my homie's farm house and get to work on a sack of weed. It was the first time in as long as I could ever remember in life that I kicked my head back and took in the stars. I ate a cherry tomato fresh off a plant sitting next to me on the patio. My homie, the quintessential farmer, left me be in my moment. I don’t know if he did purposely, but it was timely. When I stepped inside he was making us some food, toasting toast in a skillet instead of a toaster. My internal eyebrow raised but I stayed quiet until he cracked an egg in a skillet and it was a deep yellow. “What the fuck is wrong with your eggs?” I insisted. He explained that it was a farm egg, a fresh one.
My life was changing, in the slightest of fleeting moments. Maybe the reggie sack was slowing time down, or was it just my mind down-shifting? I had been on strip club benders and non-custodial parent woes. I was in the streets and chasing ass. I found myself in a moment when I didn’t miss anything anymore. I wasn’t moving, running, jogging, chasing, and I don’t think I was evening drinking a beer. If I was, fuck it, you get the point..
Slow down. Time flies. We’re all definitely born to die, but we’ve been given time to spend until the hourglass runs motionless. You only owe it to yourself, really, but as any parent knows, the motivation of another life doesn’t hurt. So do it for Grandma if you have to. Do it for your dad you never met. Do it for that fleeting moment in 1997 when you told yourself you were going to do something great while you night dreamed in your bedroom with a wet rag on your head during another hot Missouri summer – that kid that’s still inside of you. It’ll be best if you do it for you.