There's a theory that time goes by faster the older you get, because you have less of it left. I think that's true. When I was a kid, an hour could feel like an entire day. Time moved slow. Staring out the window in class, waiting for the bell to ring.
Watching my dog Chewbacca sleep, I want to slow time down to the millisecond. I want to treasure every moment with his furry face. Gazing lovingly into his caramel colored eyes, he looks back and I can picture him thinking, "creepy mommie, you're hashtag obsessed". These fur kids nowadays...
Maybe it's not "normal" to be so attached to a dog. But I don't care. He is my best friend. My confidant, and work buddy when I work from home some days. Chewie is fourteen and I know I'm being selfish, wanting him to grow old and grey with me. He's struggling. We've had so many years together. But I want more. It's not rational. I know this. His life span is shorter. Yet, still, give me one more year, I pray as I sip my coffee this morning watching him breathe shallowly by my feet.
Time is precious. Short. Fleeting. Sometimes, I feel as if I am living my life behind a gauze curtain. Everything is hazy and I try to reach out and capture the moments but they float away. They just float away.
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