Time is bizarre. In the 5 decades I can recall now, being a child seemed to last forever. So did adolescence. Then it seemed my young adult years zoomed by, full as they were, and then middle age settled in. It now seems I've been an adult forever. The child me, the young adult me, were so long ago that though I remember being that person it's all far and removed from who and what I am today.
Stress slows time. These last 9 1/2 weeks have been longer than the last year in total. Living in my home is a memory now. Moving in, just this last April- seven months ago today- seems at least a year ago, maybe more. While the four years I've been "out to pasture" feels like forever now, it's only four years. And the 30+ years of working? All collapsed in a heap of scenes in some file cabinet in my head.
So what the hell is the deal with time? Why are bad times so slow and good times so fleeting? Why can some moments stick with you when years can pass without notice?
This all began in my thoughts this morning with reading a review of Stephen King's new book, 11.22.63. The protagonist goes back in time to try to prevent JFK's assassination (I've had that dream). If time travel were available, would those extra hours or days collapse in memory or stand out? Would you by necessity of some time law regress physically to what age you were then? Is time linear and immutable? Or is it possible to step out of time and be an anomaly?
Yes, too many half-deep thoughts. The morning is rising slowly today. Lots of fog and mist, a tentative kind of day. But I'm sure I won't remember it in a few months.