Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Hourglass

Pitter Patter, Pitter Patter. Drops of water fall from the darkened starry sky, as I sit awake in the safeties of my home. Click click click click, goes the keyboard as my essay starts to form. The rest is silence, as my house stirs to sleep, minus me.
But all I hear is the pitter patter-ing, reminding me of the seconds that tick by slowly. The seconds that I’m losing from the time I could be snuggled up and dreaming, the seconds of sand specks that fall in the hourglass of my lifetime.
Suddenly, I’m imagining the first time I went to SeaWorld at 3, and moving away from my best friend at 4, then hearing the boy yell “I love you” on the last day of 5th grade. Like a child, I wish I could hop into a time machine and change my past. I wish I could time travel and shape my future. Just as soon as I’m daydreaming, I snap back into reality, the reality being that I have an essay to finish. Time seems to drag on as strands of words construct themselves into sentences, then paragraphs.
            It is in this seemingly insignificant moment where I realize time moves so fast, yet so slow. But it keeps on moving and isn’t afraid to leave us behind. Every moment can be magical, but only if you allow it to be.

written May 22, 2010 for a House on Mango Street assignment for the subject of rain

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