Gratitude For The Passing Of Time

I recently dreamed I was a realtor showing a house to some eager buyers. It wasn’t any ol’ house, though. There was something special about it. I had spent my imperative teenage years living in it with my family.

As we walked through the house, I noticed each room looked vastly different. It had been remodeled to the point that I hardly recognized the place I once lived in – cried in, laughed in, grew in.

That’s the thing with time: it repurposes everything you once knew. What remains, for a while, is the foundation and structure of a moment, location, or relationship, but time reassembles the space within. And, eventually, it even deconstructs the entire infrastructure of the past, leaving only the intangible memory of what was.

I felt an urge to cry in the dream. The consistency of time makes it hard to detect in the moment, and therefore it doesn’t always feel real. Time typically works quietly in the background, so when it reveals its steady progress over a long period of time, it’s startling. We find ourselves astonished, and especially sentimental, by the evolution of our own lives that occurred somehow beyond our awareness.