Blink

Blink and you’ll miss it.

The first time I heard that phrase I was five and we were in Montana.  My family was headed to a ghost town that was so small you could miss seeing it as you drove through without wide, watchful eyes.

As a young child, I had those eyes.

As an adult, I am left wondering: Where did February go?  And most of March for that matter? 

I blinked and I missed them. 

Life is just whizzing by at the speed of light, blinding me.  By the time I open my eyes, time has passed.  I know the reasons.  I’ve been under-the-weather.  The responsibilities that were heaped on me this past fall finally caught up.  I needed to pause and catch my breath. 

Inhale.  Exhale.

It took a little more than a month to feel normal.  Now Easter is upon us.  The school year is on its last leg.  Applications and arrangements for next year must be made.  What about summer? Are we travelling?  Wait!  Am I in the last few months of being a full-time mom?  What’s that next chapter?  Do I have to write it, or will it just unfold?

It’s enough to leave me panting, eager for another pause, another chance to catch my breath.

But there is no more time for that.  I need to stay with the tick-tock of the clock.  The future is both exciting and fraught, but the present tense is where I ought to be.  With my family, in the homestretch of life with little ones.

Of course, I remember Japan.  The cherry blossoms. 

Sakura.

Right now their national news tracks the Cherry Blossom Front the way our US news agencies track a random cold front.  They predict the perfect day to view the cherry blossoms in their full glory for each region of Japan.  In the vertical island nation, some sections have already had the front pass over them, while others have weeks to wait.  Japanese people eagerly anticipate the front every year and go to their nearest cherry trees for a picnic at the time of perfection.

The parks are full, because that moment of full bloom, before the petals start dropping like soft pink raindrops, lasts only a few hours.

Blink and you’ll miss it.

The Japanese attachment to cherry blossoms is endearing.  They view them as a metaphor for life:

Utterly beautiful, yet fleeting.

Blink and you’ll miss it.