TIME IN A BOTTLE

One of my most very favourite songs is Jim Croce’s Time in a Bottle:

    If I could save time in a bottle The first thing that I’d like to do

    Is to save every day ‘til eternity passes away Just to spend them with you.

Whether these words evoke memories of people who are living or gone, the sentiment is the same.  The moments we shared with them are in the past, out of reach, water that has travelled on in the river of life.  It will never pass this way again.  Wouldn’t it be wonderful to uncork a bottle, take a deep breath of memory, and find yourself holding your two-year-old’s hand, or paying closer attention to your grandmother’s stories, or standing still while your mother does a fitting for a dress she is sewing for you, or sharing laughter over an inside joke with your husband knowing you are the only two on the planet who know what is so funny.

    If I could make days last forever If words could make wishes come true

    I’d save every day like a treasure, and then Again, I would spend them with you.

We’ve all been there.  The longing to spend just a little longer with someone or something we love.  The wanting to linger in a moment – the innocence and trust of childhood friendships, the delicious rush of falling in love, the breath-taking mixture of naiveté and over confidence when we stepped out into the world to make our own way, the mind-bending awe of holding our newborn children in our arms.  All of these things are precious beyond words; how lovely it would be to travel in time to experience them once more.

This past week, as summer finally let go her fierce strangle-hold of unrelenting heat and smoke from distant fires, I have felt the year slip quietly in to autumn mode.  The sun is kinder on my skin.  The garden is giving up its bounty.  The leaves are turning color.  The air is tinged with the scent of completeness and satisfaction.  Crickets sing us to sleep at night.

This is, by far, my favorite time of the year.  If I had a bottle to save time in it would be decorated in fall colors and smell like ripe apples.  These are the days where time already seems to be suspended, breathless, hushed.

Of course, there is work to do.  The point of sowing a crop is to reap it.  Whether it is cucumbers or canola, potatoes or wheat, there are long hours of harvest and storage ahead.  There will be meals on the run, long days and short nights, aching backs and skinned knuckles, but along with these things are also the feelings of satisfaction and accomplishment.  Of doing worthwhile work in a world that needs the foods that you grow.

    If I had a box made for wishes And dreams that had never come true

    The box would be empty Except for the memory of how they were answered by you.

If I had a box made for wishes, and dreams that had never come true, I guess my box would be empty too. 

To be living in this place, and in this time, is exquisite.  Our lives are own personal bottles.  Savor them.