For so many years I didn't value time. An anointed symptom of youth for there was always going to be another tomorrow, another chance, another moment, and another occasion. Perhaps I read too many Anne Rice books, but my friends and I considered ourselves invincible. We were untouchable, life was forever, and time waited for us - not the other way around. That was the mantra of our lives until one awful day, Bambi broke our rose-tinted glasses, and we discovered that wasn't the case. After all, thirteen-year-olds aren’t supposed to die. But they do, and with the toll of death, time proves itself to be the master of all. A vindictive master, at that.
After accepting that I wasn't invincible - not even a smidgen - I began collecting a storage box of regrets. I regret being too young to value the limited time that I had with my loved ones. To a degree, my past has painted walls of all the things that I failed to become, and bizarrely, it's those small regrets that outweigh all of my significant accomplishments; though I don't fully understand why I insist on focusing on my failures rather than my successes. Most importantly, I regret blowing my Aunt Mae off so I could hang with my friends instead, and I deeply regret being so comfortable with seeing my granddad every day that I didn't make more of an effort to have quality time with him. I miss them both so much and will likely carry such regrets throughout the rest of my life. But it isn't just them that’s encased in regret. If it was, my burdensome box of regrets might be easier to lug around.
I live with tremendous regrets, true, but as much as time has been a brute, it has also been an ally. Despite my time-related regrets, I've learned to practice time efficiency; acquiring an appreciation for the intricate currency of time and how to spend it wisely. It's a valuable lesson, especially as I enjoy this next chapter of life where the unwinding sands of time matter more than ever before. There’s also an amulet to the decay of time which I've found to be a rather good opponent for regret: happiness. Happiness has a powerful and unique way of pausing time at a particular moment; holding it, gilding it, and curating it into a forever moment. Something that's everlasting.
Today’s memories are from one of those happy moments, long ago, when people who I love were still comfortably seated in oversized armchairs, drinking tsai tou vounou and eating kadaifi. Today’s memory (and remedy for the regret of irreplaceable time being misused and lost) is of my cousin and I running around our grandmother’s ancestral home, shielding ourselves from a dehydrating sun as we rummaged for treasure in broken mosaics and old colorful pottery. How I wish we could go back – even if it was for a mere moment. That, my friends, is where happiness and regret merge.
The memo from this unloaded word surge is a simple reminder to respect time. Live life, as much of it as you can, doing what makes you happy. Carve out your path and illuminate it with the dreams that inhabit your heart. Take risks and discover another dimension of yourself on the other side of fear. Whenever possible, prioritize time around your needs and wants, daring to believe in your infinite potential. And most importantly, make plans with your loved ones often. Laugh and dance and be silly with them. Entrust them with your spirit and readily accept theirs too. Photograph every moment that you’re together, even if that means photographing messy kitchens after dinnertime, or when you’re wearing a hat because your hair hasn't been washed in a week. Life and its valuable moments don’t have to be pretty or curated, they just have to be honest.
"Time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time."
-Marthe Troly-Curtin
(Artwork by Salvador Dali)
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