Invisible String

Time is a funny measurement of our existence here on earth. It shapes our lives and helps us organize what exactly is going on in this wild world of ours. We spend so much of that time finding connections and getting pulled into different places. Places on earth and places in time.

A college student might be excited to finish the last semester of school before Summer break while a science professor is excited to share all he knows about The Summer Solstice to his students. The college student is young and ambitious, ready to explore, but moving towards his first big mistakes in life. And the science professor is aware of his surroundings from years before and he finds joy in seeing magic of Summer around him once more, also ready for a little time off to relax.

Around the world right now, the clock reads 1:00 pm. In Chicago, it’s noon, in Denver it’s 11:00 am and in LA, it’s 10:00 am. In London, it’s already 6:00 pm and in Asia, it’s a brand new day. The feeling of being inside a spiraling hourglass echoes around the world; while traveling downward, it’s unclear which direction we're headed in. From the outside, the glass looks harmless and sleek, but inside it’s chaotic and messy, also scary and unpredictable. The beautiful curves and its tranquil deceptions are the true distractions from the unimaginable commotion inside.

We’re given time as though it is a gift, but the gift is not time at all. The true gift has been engulfed inside the hourglass, hidden by this gift of time. The grains of sand falling with us are depictions and directions we can take and endure.

Tomorrow we are told that we can live a new day, because life yesterday has been erased and today is nothing but a stepping stone. We celebrate a year, five years, ten years and more. We continue to celebrate the dates we are given, our timestamp on earth. We move forward with time, and try to hold on to the things that already been. Looking back seems painful, while looking ahead feels daunting. We are told that we have today, twenty-four hours, if that, and to enjoy the little things, if only we can find them.

We grab hold onto others, hoping they’ll somehow slow down the race. We lean on them because we want to hold our place steady, so we can swim and sail in the same direction, happily. We sail to this place we make together and find out that the only real thing we have is time.

One day, we connect and time seems to slip through our fingers. We catch ourselves late for curfews and trying to stay awake all night to beat the day, so tomorrow doesn’t come too soon. Even when our arms are linked, staring off into the stars still calms us to sleep. We arise on the new day, taking on new challenges. The beat of life drumming on, whether we’ve found each other, or not.

One day, we’re celebrating the joys we bring to each other. We notice the wrinkles laughs left on our faces. We notice the paths we’ve left behind and the paths that are moving on without us. We argue about things that don’t matter at all, the grains of sand that are passing us by.

One day, we cannot continue to connect. We’ve found the missing puzzle piece, the reason why we weren’t together in the first place. Our paths look split, but we’re told to stick-it-out, ride the wave.

Sometimes that wave is too big to surf and it drowns us. And time is there ticking loudly in our ear yelling at us that we don’ t have time to waste, to either make up or move on.

Around the world, we all feel it. We feel that storm, the give and the take, the waves and the droughts. We feel the hourglass we’re slow dancing in.

In Detroit, Michigan at 1:00 pm, it pours heavy drops from dark, gray clouds. Thunder is booming across the sky and lighting is invisible to the eye because of the midday sun. A movie plays on the television and a blanket is in the shape of a cocoon, only to shield the cool AC air.

In New Zealand, it’s 5:00 am the next day. It is quiet and still outside. The day was swept away by a snowstorm and the world outside is trapped, frozen in it’s place. A movie plays on the television and a blanket is in the shape of a cocoon, only to shield the drafts from the windows.

Four blue eyes, full of tears and sadness, stay closed for a while.

Four lonely hands reach for their phones to find comfort, and to numb the pain of being alone.

One body, small yet mature, tucks her hair behind her ear and taps on a picture of a boy with dark hair and blue eyes.

One body, large and strong, sits himself up in bed. Too restless for a good nights sleep, clicks on a picture of a girl with long blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes. His thumb extend to the message icon in the corner and a new screen opens, just for the two of them.

The girl also taps on the message icon. A green light appears next to her name and his name, too. Together, they’ve connected by an invisible string tugging in.

“Hello.” Types the boy.

“Hello.” Types the girl.

And away they went, typing and smiling. Wiping away tears and forgetting their worries. Simply enjoying their engagement.

“It was nice to meet you.” Types the boy.

“Please message me again, tomorrow.” Types the girl.

“Of course I will.” Types the boy.

Now, in New Zealand, the sun is coming up on a brand new day. And in Detroit, dinner was about ready and the sun is about to set.

The boy peels himself from his cocoon in his bed and the girl uncurls herself from her cocoon off her couch.

Apart, yet together, they walk outside to feel the fresh air. Snow comes floating down landing in his hair and rain comes pouring down onto her face.

They took a deep breath and smiled.