“We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. . .”
~ Anais Nin
We are, in any given moment, a culmination of what was; what is, is; what will be will be. (Doris Day anyone?)
The past happened, and brings fond memories, or recriminations; the future will be, and we can think about and plan for it, but godforbid we hope for it because all that does is make us wish time could move faster, and we only have so much, so that doesn’t seem very wise, does it.
And yet we are all past, present, future. I watch Only Daughter wrestle with wanting to act 16 and then catch her in her room with a friend playing Littlest Pet Shops. I hear toddlers screaming in stores and think that that’s actually much like I’m feeling right at that moment but too well socialized (at last!) to show it. I save for retirement, wonder if what I’m doing for a living is what I should do for a living until I retire, and wish I were in my 20s with everything still before me, and braver, but so glad I’m not, and wonder if I’ll ever have any grandchildren, and then shudder.
The past, present, and future mingle, and pull us backward, forward. . .