The title of this article is from Andrew Marvell’s poem, To His Coy Mistress. It was published in 1681. I guess even in the 17th Century time seemed to rush by whether you were just living your life or waiting for your lady love to give you some attention. We still have the same amount of seconds and minutes in the day as we’ve always had (more or less), but it feels as though they slip past quicker and quicker.
I’ve been really uncertain what to write in this space, I can’t really decide on the words. I haven’t thought beyond stating that time has flown, which is something I touched on at some point last month. This may be one of those posts where I just want to write words and put down some things regardless of whether or not it all makes sense.
This last week has been hectic in my family. My Aunt Jady had a heart attack this week; she was hospitalized on Monday and had triple bypass surgery on Friday. She is a member of the village which helped raise me, my brother, my cousins, my nephew and continues with my son and my great-nephew. She’s doing good, but the road ahead will be a long one for her.
My earliest memories involve my Aunt Jady– she took me to see Raiders of the Lost Ark at the Capri Twin (I was four years old; her, my grandmother and I were all terrified by the snakes). I used to refer to Aunt Jady as my second mother, and she has filled that role with my cousins, Matthew and Aaron, too. With us three, if our parents said no to a toy or anything else we wanted, Aunt Jady was (and still is) more than happy to supply us with our hearts’ desires. She has spent plenty of times at our besides when we have been sick, and we will be returning the favor.
In other news, school starts tomorrow. My son is not what would be described as enthusiastic. He’s happy to be reunited with his friends, but all the learning, work, and regimented days– forget it. I can sympathize. I was the same as him. The only things, other than friends, I anticipated about new a school year were the smells of the building after so long, the aromas of fresh paper, folders and textbooks. And I was always associated the return to school with the advent of autumn. The golden light of fall would be arriving soon and, with it, Halloween.
And there we have it: time keeps on slippin’, slippin’, slippin’ into the future, or so says the great philosopher Steve Miller. It’s August– school’s back in session, we have Halloween around the corner, then Thanksgiving, Christmas and- abracadabra– New Years, and let’s not forget the birthdays which fall between all the holidays. Like Aunt Jady’s. No surprise party for her this year, though.
Curio Macabre 