Sands in the hourglass

Relatively recently I have begun to feel the passage of time. Before my 30s I had never really even given it much thought, but lately there are reminders everywhere. Experiencing this blatant Tick-Tock is mind-scrambling despite the fact that on an intellectual level we all know we are going to grow up, get old, become incredibly annoying to our progeny, and pass on.

I mean, have you ever looked at your parents and noticed that they have aged? Thinning hair, more clearly defined wrinkles, forgetfulness, less artfully applied make up, slowed movements, etc. are all portents that time is moving and someday they will be lost and we will become untethered in the world. I can't imagine this eventuality. It literally makes no sense to me and I try not to think about it because it frightens me. So let's move on quickly.

A somewhat less anxiogenic example of bearing witness to the march of time comes to mind. This event is one that occurred a few months back. I was at my friend's house and several of us gals were in the kitchen pouring some wine and gossiping like always. Many times we had been there, drinking, gabbing, laughing, regaling one another with tales from college, pre-partying before hopping into a cab to go out for the night, etc. Then all of a sudden, we realized there was something different about this particular night. Hmm...what was it? Oh yeah, there was a BABY there! One of my friends had a BABY. A child. A small human person. And it came out of her. It was her baby. She made it and she brought into this world. We all looked at him, this intruder in our girlie fun, and thought to ourselves that although he is as cute as the day is long, he is a reminder that time is a tickin'. Sigh.

A couple nights ago hubby and I had a party at the house. We went old school and got kegs, implemented a theme, mixed 4 hours of music, bought a ton of food, rolled up the rugs, pushed the furniture back, and had at it. I love having a house full of smiling, laughing people. It makes me feel alive. Yet at one point during the night, I had the distinct feeling of being completely over it. It was strange, because I had been looking forward to this party for over a month. I was going to wear my "uniform" (painted on Seven for All Mankind jeans with a black halter top), get my drink on, shake my money maker, and just blow off steam. And I did all that. Believe me, I have the pictures to prove it (thankfully I don't know how to insert them here). Mission accomplished. Why then, did I feel relieved at the end of the night? It wasn't just because my feet had been pinched into pointy heels all night or that I was tired of sucking myself in, although both are true. I believe my exact thoughts were, "I am so glad I don't have to do this again". What?!? Me? I am a party girl. I love to party. How could I feel as though I was yearning instead for more intimate and sedate get-togethers? Then, much like the time my girls and I realized the interloper represented time gone by, it hit me. I am aging. I am getting older. I am advancing in years. I had been trying to ignore the fine lines around my eyes, but this hit me over the head. Yup, time is a tickin'.

But instead of a soft, susurration of a tik, tik, tik, these events have been accompanied by a booming Cher-clunk! Cher-clunk! Cher-clunk! I have not yet determined how I am going to deal with these moments of clarity, as they produce a very real and visceral panic. I try to tell myself that I am living my best life so I will have few regrets at the end of the day, but sometimes it does just get too existential and abstract. I suppose for the time being I will just look at my calendar and make some plans with friends. I'll pour myself into my party clothes and we'll go have a nice dinner somewhere. We'll talk about current events, whose child is doing what, and surely it will all be wonderfully civilized. Sigh.