Time passes; that is one of the few constants in life. I know I can’t escape it, and yet it scares me; there are so many happy moments that time has stolen away from me, and in the end there will be no more moments to experience left in my life at all.
The image in this post is taken during one of my happy childhood summers, a blur of sunlight, the sea, my grandparents’ voices, playing on the grass, fishing, eating fruit and berries straight off the tree.
Now, my grandfather is dead and my grandmother more than eighty years old. The clean water we used to swim in is frequently polluted by heavy growths of algae due to temperature changes, and the peaceful bay will be peaceful no longer when the neighbour gets permission to build a pier across from the house to rent out to people who need a space to put their boats in summer.
Yet in spite of all these melancholic changes, I do not want time to stop, not really, however tempting it may sound to remain forever in the dreamtime of summers past. Because the good changes in my life outweigh the bad. As I age, I grow into myself, and feel better about myself year by year. I know that I am creating something with my life, affecting the world with my words, images and actions rather than remaining in stasis. In the end, that is what time is all about.