|photo courtesy of morgueFile|
The old ladies were right, as old ladies often are.
They crocheted and drank Folgers throughout the afternoon while lamenting the passage of time as though this was a bad thing.
For me, time crawled. Days blended together imperceptibly, a string of sameness.
I was forever counting down to something—Christmas Eve, minutes until the bell rang, my next birthday when life would be exciting and different by the mere advancement of age. Twelve would be better than eleven… It had to be. Wasn’t that how life worked?
Did the simple process of counting down, stop time? Like Nana always said, a watched pot never boils… Even so, my sister and I tracked slow-motion days with hand-made, multi-colored construction paper chains sticky with Elmer’s glue. Elmer’s glue was an important part of the fun.
With each broken link, we celebrated. One link, one day…until finally the special day arrived. And then z-o-o-o-o-m, it was over. Just like that. With no need for a chain, lake days sped by, Christmas break ended in a flash.
Maybe it was the chain that slowed things.
Maybe we all better start making paper chains.