Wishful Thinking

It's Friday afternoon, and I sip my thankfully endless supply of Diet Coke and glance at the clock. The Time Gods clearly are not on my side. The workweek might never end, and I will remain here, slumped semi-consciously over my desk, awaiting the elusive weekend. FOREVER.

I've done this for weeks, and as it dawns on me that it is nearly September, I realize I've spent most of the last few months wishing the summer away.

In fact, I've done this for years. Not just praying for the workweek to fly by, but for huge chunks of time to pass quickly. Cold, dark winters that I could barely tolerate, in anticipation of spring. Half my childhood, when my foremost thought was to be grown, independent and free. My sons' teenage years, which pounced upon me with a vengeance. I wished them, frantically, over and done. And then suddenly, inexplicably, they were gone.

I realize, looking back, that I've wished half my life away.

Sure, there were moments I wanted to retain forever--to keep frozen in time in my memory. Standing before the altar, in a satin white dress, saying with confident hope, "I do." Sitting at a six-year-old son's piano recital, even with his flawed chords, as I glowed with motherly pride.

But simple joyous moments, like those, are few. The weeks and years that hold challenges, apparently, are more apt to be swept off into a discard pile, readily thrown aside and conveniently forgotten.

As I enter the throes of middle age, I find I'm less inclined to wish away my life. Because the seemingly turbulent times still offer something which can benefit me-- some nuances or gifts--however cloaked with momentary distress they might be. If nothing else, they are simply a notable part of my life. And every moment of my life, now, is somehow consequential.

I wish that every remaining moment of my life is a happy one. But if not, I'm just happy for every remaining moment at all. Time passes more quickly than we can ever fathom, and suddenly, we yearn for what we once had but is now gone. I don't believe in regrets, and some day, I hope, I'll appreciate even the most formidable moments in my life.

Or maybe that's just wishful thinking.