Dorrier Underwood

The tiny pieces of ice hit the windshield with a muted crunch, a soft noise that made the rest of the world seem strangely quiet and still. It was still and quiet in my head too, despite the jockeying for position in the pickup line. I snapped out of my reverie just soon enough to move forward in the line on Monroe Road, along with the other parents whose schedules were untimely ripped by the arrival of the ice storm. I am immune to the struggle today. I am not trying to get ahead of the other cars. If it takes longer than I have planned, then I will be late for the chiropractor, hardly tragic. I suddenly stop noticing the “wintry mix” as the TV weatherpeople would have us call the sleet and rain, and start noticing my life. I am having a normal life. I am in line at the high school, waiting to pick up my kid. I am not doing anything else. I am glad to be doing this, I am glad that my daughter will remember, somewhere in the recesses of her cortex someday, that her daddy was ther...

Time flies, and then it creeps.  Time is an animal that stalks me in my sleep. I am in a hurry to get things done so I can get some “down time.” Speed up to slow down. This is what I have learned about time. It varies with my level of engagement, with my mood. When I am enjoying myself I don’t notice the passage of time. When I am bored or distracted, I check my watch or my phone. Certain tasks take as long as they do, like making dinner or comforting a child. Other tasks must be completed in the allotted time, like getting to the airport. Time is in the hands of the clock-watcher: has it been “a whole hour” or “just an hour?” I walked out into the backyard at Mom and Dad’s place in northern Virginia on the morning after Christmas. I had our new black and white dog on a red leash as she ran into the snow! Realizing it was her first time in snow, I had to let her go off the leash for a few minutes at least!  Leaping, sliding, eating the crunchy white stuff c...