In 1983, when my parents were getting a divorce, I went home to my old house one day to gather some of my belongings. I remember walking up the street carrying a bag of my stuff and thinking, "God, now that I'm free (of my domineering father), I'd like to make people happy". What an idiot.
I ended meeting a guy, falling in love, and spending the next 10 years trying to make him happy. I had jobs come and go. Friends came and went. People got married, had kids, bought houses, and generally lived the normal, middle-class lifestyle that I wanted but couldn't seem to grasp. Time was going by. I left the man, lost everything, started over, went back to college, spent 8 years studying and celibate, worked hard and lost everything again. Time continued. I was in my late 30s by then.
I vowed to leave the past behind and make a new start, at 37. Time. I began to lose people and things I loved. People got older, moved away, kids were almost grown. I hadn't even started yet. I wanted a husband and family so much that I asked God to send me someone. He sent me someone all right, someone who wasted his life being an addict. For the next couple of years I wasted my precious time trying to help another man, give him a good home and loved him, hoping that in time he would see what a jewel he had.
He didn't. The day I found out he was screwing some woman in my car, I broke my elbow in 2 places falling off my bike (because he had my car). I lost my job, my apartment (eventually) and then my car. I lost my main job because I couldn't do my job with a broken arm. I wasted time. I was beginning to mourn the loss. I broke up with the jerk, then found out I was pregnant. I was out of time. Someone else was now going to depend on me and I didn't have the time to get the husband, the job and the house.
I was living in a 30 x 8 foot trailer with no heat and water in the winter by then. I was out in the middle of the country, miles from anywhere, crying to God about everything. I wished I had more time to prepare. When we moved here, when my daughter was a baby, I lost my 2 remaining cats, whom I had for the previous 10 years. One died, and the other I gave to my brother, who mistreated the animal. It ran away. I never saw Bubbies again. Even now, when I think of him, I cry because I wish so much that I could have him back and have the time to give him so much more love.
Now I have a daughter and I have no time (for myself). The other day, when we were doing math homework, my daughter pointed to my age on the line, 45. She pointed out that there were a lot of years between her age and mine. I agreed. Then I looked at 75, the end of the number line, and it hit me all at once that I was running out of time. My number was closer to the end than the beginning, my time was drawing to a close. But I haven't lived the life I wanted to yet!
In my soul I want to do so many more things! I still want to get married and buy a house. I want to travel to all the places on my board, like that kid from "places in the heart" movie, with cher as the biker mom? Remember that? Wasn't it the saddest thing you ever saw when she went into his room and saw all the places he wanted to visit on his map but didn't get to see in his life?
I want more time. I want more time to spend having fun with my daughter, less doing housework. I want more time having fun, less fighting for our survival. I want time to spend with her smiling face as much as I can possibly squeeze in, because I know when I'm old I will want to remember every minute. We don't have enough time. Now that I have a daughter, I want to live to be 85, to spend as much time as I can with her before I'm out of time.
Don't let time pass you by without living, because none of us knows when our time's up. I hope God granted me a long life, because I don't want someone looking at my map and wishing I could have realized my dreams. God bless.
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