Time

Time.

To watch time. My hands, palms up, fingers spread, my life dripping through like sand.

Fast.

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Time.

To watch children step out into the world, fall in love, leave behind the candies, the toys, the hours we spent together.

At their own pace.

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Time.

To watch parents age inside the roles they settled into long ago — coupled, still learning, still growing.

Slow.

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Time.

To watch everyone running, twisting, pressing, going.

Where?

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He said:

c’è tempo, c’è tempo — there’s time, there’s time, for all of this endless sea of people.

I watch my hands.

And I believe him now.

—

After C'è tempo" by Ivano Fossati.