Time
It is a beautiful February day. The sun is out. The winds are ”breezy,” as they say in Oklahoma, but lighter than what they often are. There’s hardly a cloud in the sky. Spring is almost here, it seems, with all the promises of new life that come with it.
And yet I’m feeling melancholic and blue.
Why? Because Sherri Little, a friend of our family and practically everyone who lives in Norman, has died. And as a result, people I love are hurting.
We’ll all be attending her funeral today.
Whenever someone special like Sherri passes so suddenly, so out of the blue, we can’t help but wish we would have told them all the things they deserved to hear. We regret missed opportunities, and we long for a little more time.
For Sherri, here are some of the comments I think she would have heard. We admired you. We thought you showed great humility. We were touched by your kindness. You’ve raised a great family.
Anyway, as I think about Sherri Little today, I’m reminded of a poem I wrote a few years back. It captures my mood.
Time
If you could only grab it and hang on,
buy a carton of the stuff,
or slip some into your front pocket.
If you could only reclaim that moment,
revisit that stupid mistake,
or swallow that unfortunate word.
If you could only see him again,
or tell her goodbye,
or reach out and hold her hand.
Violins are quietly tuning up.
The sun takes its usual spot.
Opportunities skip right on by.
If you could only smuggle a smidgeon,
pinch off the left hand corner,
or sample a sweet slice of once more.
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Thank you for the poem … there are a lot of folks I wish I could have a smidgeon more time with, selfishly, to tell them things I should have when I could, and it’s good to be reminded of that now and again, so that I make the time for the folks who can still hear those things.
Which is sort of a garbled way of saying it, but I hope you get my meaning. And the bottom line is that I appreciate you sharing the poem.
Tamsen