the eternal rush

It is close to 7:30 in the morning and we are clearly running a little behind as Ana has not had her breakfast yet, D has not toasted the English muffin we usually grab and go for breakfast on the road, I have not got myself fully ready yet - there's always the hair to get done, and the final wipe down with wet cloth where Ana's snot manages to lodge itself from a few minutes ago when she decided to give an impromptu hug that will keep me skipping all through the day thinking about...

And, while getting our respective shoes on, we tell Ana to get hers on. She wanders around leisurely to find the matching pair she usually hides separately around the house. D and I being otherwise occupied with our respective morning chores, we let her get on with the shoe-donning pageant till one of us can look into speeding it up.

Then, she sits down slowly, sticking one foot in and deciding her socks are not sitting just right, and her anklets seem to be caught in the socks, and somehow, things have to be started from scratch again...

So, she gradually pries her sock free and tries to put it back on... all the while pressure mounting as I watch the clock ticking away, and worry about getting stuck in traffic, thereby being a little late for work, and having to stay late to wrap it all up.

But, Ana, in her own little surreal world where clocks drip away and Time is only a whimsical concept, decides to take the shoes and run off to her room making D follow her in an aggravated and frenzied attempt to get her ready and strapped to the car seat so we can get going...

...while I rummage through the chaos in the fridge and ferret out the lunch boxes (thankfully there's always some leftovers packed the previous night) and put them in respective bags, and head out to the garage to get our respective coffee mugs in to fill with what's left in the coffee pot so we can re-fuel ourselves on the way to work.

Every little mundane activity takes on Herculean proportions when racing against the clock to be somewhere else, doing something else.

After what seems like a tornado has zipped by, the house settles into a quiet dullness as the garage door slides shut and we are on our way to meet the challenges another day has to offer.

First we drop off Ana at her daycare, Ana still clutching her piece of English muffin and a quarter of a jelly sandwich which she insisted she could not leave home without... no time for extended hugs and bye-byes, so, I park her on the mat by the toy shelf and fill out her toddlergram eyeing the door and slipping out in secret haste lest Ana spies me and detains me for comfort. The chat with her care-giver has to wait till evening...

Then, D drops me off at the nearest bus stop or as close as possible without straying far from his route to work which is about 25 minutes away at non-peak hour, but will probably be twice as much or more now, considering we weren't racing fast enough this morning.

As I wait for the bus, ride it, alight at my stop, and walk over to my office, I catch my breath wondering what Life is all about.

We endlessly rush from here to there, with ingrained and indisputable importance of Time, a sense of urgency instilled right from infancy, and our lives carefully regimented so much so that sitting back and throwing a fishing line in and waiting patiently at the shore for a bite seems like a wasted lifetime...

And apparently, invariably, we wake up one fine morning, wondering how Time Flies By as we watch the extraordinary teenager walking out the door on her way to meet the day's challenges, guilt gnawing at our innards wondering if we gave enough time for our baby to just be.

C'est la vie?