For no man, as the adage goes.
I was looking through my iPhone where I keep a note with thoughts that strike me. This one is a quote that I’d forgotten:
“I could tell the time was winding down in 2016–I could feel the weeks rushing by. I deliver meals on Tuesdays. As soon as I’d done it, it’d be Tuesday again.”
My dad said it casually in conversation during one of our catchups on the phone. I thought, recently. In actuality, 2 years ago.
I’m young, I know that. I’m not trying to paint a picture of woes for a life gone by. But time doesn’t wait. You hear it in the semi-sweet sadness of a parent’s retellings, “…when we brought you home from the hospital…” A joking eye roll later saves you from having to acknowledge that in just a few moments, it’ll be you.
It’s a certainty of the universe. And even as I have attempted to pause time just for a moment to encapsulate this sliver of thought; returning to the first typed line confronts me with the past. It’s done. That’s what I chose to do. At that moment, I chose to write. On April 12, 2018 8:03 A.M. I could have been doing many things, but let it be known that Raquel Euzera Ross wrote a sentence. The action is forever cemented in time.
Read “Out, Out–” by Robert Frost for a good time.
God-given time. Time that exists outside of me. Before me. After me. Time that I am participating in. Time that is privilege. Actually, not my time at all.
my this time, I’ve been thinking: life has guaranteed me brevity, vapor, and maybe I can guarantee it something too. In the midst of this breath called life, just as this time is not mine, I’ll use it for not me. What could happen with a life lived without me at the center?
And maybe that chain reaction will outrun what I can’t.
Huge thanks to Alejandra Hoyos Vélez for the awesome modeling. Loved shooting with her! If you’d like to see more images from our time together, check them out here: https://raquelrossphotography.pixieset.com/portraitboston/
Until next time,