Slipping Into the Future

Little is really known about the present. We know the moment is here and gone before time can be captured and its present held for scrutiny. Why is the present so elusive?

May 9, 2005 I stood on what I thought was firm ground. My determination was to live in the present, not regretting the past and not fearing the future. At 5:05 PM that day I took a call from Aaron on my cell phone. I was getting out of my car for an appointment when the phone rang. Aaron was on the phone telling me he had gotten a job. I don't remember my response. We chatted briefly. We said goodbye and I exited the car and walked to the present. Aaron and I would never talk again. If I could live in the present, I would live in the presence of that phone conversation and never hang up.

On May 10, 2005 my phone rang again. I thought it was Aaron. The caller was the deputy coroner. If I could live in the present, I would live in the presence of that phone call and never answer.

Firm ground of '05 was actually no more than pea gravel. When the ground gave away I was face down in mud, and blood, and tears. I may never have been closer to God or further from all that is not and does not matter, and yet I could not stay in that present.

It's 9:13 PM on May 9, 2010 and time is slipping into the future of the present May 10, 12:17 PM. I'm tired. My head is buzzing. Grief waited for me to arrive back at this moment. It's always here. I can see it at a distance once the corner into spring is turned. Grief has the patience of a book. Grief sits at the sign posts of memories in time, one leg crossed over the other, hands folded over a knee, head back, gazing into the distance; just waiting. The phone doesn't ring today, but it will ring on the 10th of May and I don't want that phone answered. Call somebody else... please.