Time

I’m not home a minute before I scoop up armfuls of long, white Daikon radishes and bountiful greens, yellow squash, jalapeños, Thai basil and more from my front yard garden, planted before I left. I’m not home a day before I cast my choice on the last day of Early Voting in the U.S. General Election. I’m not home two days before I prune and plant yet more at the food pantry garden that I’d been stewarding before my journey, which my friend Faye lovingly tended while I was gone tending farms and gardens in Ireland.

And now, today, the time holds back an hour and I get a chance to just breathe. I already gained an hour last Sunday in Dublin during their end of daylight savings time, as 22 thousand people jogged past me in the Dublin Marathon while I cheered from the seat of a bikeshare bike. I already fell back another five hours when I landed at JFK International Airport after seven weeks away Round Ireland with a Duck (see TikToks at #RoundIrelandWithADuck).

Time, of course is precious, more so with each year we age. I have no more time for certain things I used to think, certain things I did, certain things I hoped for. I am working solely on my legacy project now. I have received the tap on the shoulder that says it’s time for that.