As a kid I didn’t understand my parents when they said, “I don’t have time…” I thought they had all the time in the world. I know I did, and that was good enough for me. As I grew up, I realized that I could do whatever I wanted--I still had control of my time. I finished elementary and middle schools all right.
Afraid of High school, I thought the challenging environment would consume all my time—wrong. I owned my time. College came: turn to spend serious time at the library. At the beginning, it proved to be tough, but, again, I could manage my time—great parties!
My first job: would this be it? I put all my energy and, by 5pm, I was as free as a butterfly. Where’s the closest bar?
I met the girl of my dreams. I know… not my high school sweetheart. I felt old at 30. I had to marry and have kids—the whole enchilada. Marriage tested my patient limits. At the end I realized I got angry at unimportant things; I let go. That made me happy. More activities got added to my list, but, I still had all the time in the world.
Kids came along; a lot of work, if you ask me. I started to understand my parents. Just a little bit. I had enough free time.
Another big change arrived: I got promoted--more responsibilities thrown into my bucket, which got close to full. Salary raises came along; added items here and there.
Thirty eight years later, I finally understood the whole meaning of, “I don’t have time…” My head hurt and didn’t have time to slow down. Little by little, my health deteriorated. I lived on the fast lane.
One day, I sat on a restaurant patio; lunch time. I grabbed my “healthy” hamburger, with mouth open, I saw an object and it caught my attention. Is it an UFO? I thought. Nearsighted, I focused. A tiny floating vessel navigated peacefully in front of me. It seemed to have a life of its own. Hypnotized, I stared at it for several minutes, until it landed on my leg. Afraid of breaking it, I took it for closer inspection. A feather, a simple and ordinary feather. It made me think. Why not fly slowly and enjoy the view? If I continued living like this I would explode. An insignificant event gave me the key to regain my time.
Like the feather, I slowed down. I stopped and observed. I observed how my kids already grew. I realized how the city stays put—people run. I now enjoy going places and meeting new people.
I have time...
All of this because of a tiny feather.
