17. Time Expressions

Welcome to Musing Interruptus. Time expressions contextualize. Two years ago, last Friday, and May 12th. 23 hours ago, since last we spoke, 1983. Today, 20 years after Lorena’s grandmother drew from her experience on the Foundational Elements, Lorena returned to the patch of earth, molten green as she remembered it, where she knew she could feel her. She needed those frail arms and hands to stroke her hair one last time. She needed to ask her if she could do it all again, would she make the same decisions? -Had it been worth her time? Lorena could only think these questions. It is almost shameful to bring it up, dishonoring her memory. As if admitting she made a mistake would dishonor her legacy. She got back in her car and drove to the café. Movement made thinking come easier. So she continued thinking. The best places were her car, morning walks, and evening bike rides, always with music, always lost in her thoughts and music and dance. Lorena thought about herself at 16, she hated when people wanted to be right about everything. That was her thing. Fine-tuning her phrases, forcing an argument until she won or at least wore out her interlocutor, these were her go-to activities when she needed some mental stimulation. It is a wonder she had any friends at all. She saw compliments where there were none… You just always have to be right, don’t you? Which only led her to think… Yes, I’m always right, after all, I am Ms. Smarty Pants from the land of knowitall.  She had reigned it in over the years. She learned to pick her battles. There were some she simply would not put any effort in, and that was her definition of a healthy balance. Rehabilitated, indeed. Her days of meticulously setting argument bombs around the people she most liked arguing with were over. Except with her mother. Her mind raced back to her grandmother. Lorena could not understand her decision to pack up and leave, as anything else, other than a tragedy. She closed shop, and closed her heart. She was in her forties. Is that the age of giving up? Wondered Lorena. She couldn’t help feeling the weight of her own years under her grandmother's. She continued walking in the parking lot of the upright minimall. What a concept. It was 25 years ago when she first stepped foot there. It was new. Now it was so old, it had been repainted several times over. It looked and felt fresh and familiar. Lorena couldn’t help feeling the same way, despite her experience and countless mistakes. She climbed the stairs to the outside, the outdoors. City outdoors are so different from suburb outdoors, she thought to herself. Unsaturated colors vs saturated colors. There is a light that never goes out repeating endlessly since morning. She didn’t even like that song anymore. It always made her think of a Rabbit she used to like, one of her cousin’s friends. He had curly hair and kissed by the book. She shook off the memory and wondered if Bono ever felt this way. And, does the music consume him like it consumes me? Probably more so, it’s his life. What consumes me?, Lorena asked herself. - Senseless questions. I could make a career out of senseless questions, that aren’t really senseless. They aren’t. Not if they cut to the essence of the thing. Continue Reading