It hasn't been many weeks since the change to Daylight Savings Time. We moved our clocks ahead one hour and spent the next week or so disoriented, dazed, and irritable as only the sleep deprived can be. It seemed that, despite our accurate-to-the-millisecond atomic timepieces, our experience of time is not objective.
I was finally coming to grips with that seasonal time change when I willingly embraced a shift of another sort. Yesterday morning, after five months of service, I ended my latest Interim Executive Director stint. There is much to that story, mostly best left untold. Where I find amazement is in how quickly time has changed for me in the process.
While I was working, even less than full-time, it seemed that my hours and days flew by. Despite rising just after 5:00 to get Sally off, the balance of the morning barely afforded enough time to walk the dog and get myself dressed for work. Weekends were woefully short as well. There just didn't seem to be enough time.
Then, this morning, my first after emancipation, I busied myself with multiple activities - redding up breakfast dishes, walking the dog, paying bills, reading - only to look at a clock not quite yet chiming 10:00.
If only I could save time, bottle it perhaps, uncorking these dragging hours on some delightful evening in the presence of family or friends. Alas, it is not to be. The best I can do is be aware, and amazed, that time has the capacity to both crawl and fly.