In these strange and wild times there is much talk of the apocalypse and Armageddon. With climate change, terrorism, and the threat of nuclear catastrophe, there are countless ways we are expecting something cataclysmic to occur. More than a year or so ago, I had one of those discussions with friends where you predict the day or time that the big change will occur. Somewhere in that discussion, somebody seized on the idea that we soon would land on the date of 666, the number of the beast, of evil, of all that we fear.
Today was that day, and given that discussion, along with the aggressive advertising campaign for the remake of The Omen, part of me has been emotionally preparing for something monumental to occur on this day. Although I’m no believer in the bible’s prophecies, as a witch I give great credence to people's beliefs painting the palette of reality. Awhile back, I figured that June 6th, 2006 would be a day which packed some kind of punch.
This morning as I brewed my coffee, I realized we’d finally arrived at the date of 6/6/06, and it just so happened to be my son’s last day as a student at The San Francisco School. He started in pre-school and today finished his last day of the eighth grade. For the past eleven years I’ve been driving him the same route to school. This ride today would be our last.
Some changes aren’t cataclysmic. Some creep up on you and surprise you with their sheer ordinariness. Every second of that short drive today I was acutely aware of, every piece of scenery taken note of. When we started doing this drive, my son was in a car seat in the back. Today he was in the passenger seat, and taller than I by many inches. We’d play the Lion King on the way to school when he began. Today he was plugged into the rap music I hate. This morning he’d have none of my sentimentality about this change, yet I know we both were thinking about it as the pavement rolled behind us.
All day today I thought about time, and how quickly it goes, and about doing things for the last time. I thought about last nights spent in rooms I would never occupy again, and about making love with past partners when I knew it was the last time. Each second of that ride today I asked my body to remember it, to record it fully in the senses. My son and I are moving on, we are changing. Nothing will ever be the same.
Today, the sixth day of the sixth month of two thousand and six is a day I will not forget. Sometimes it is the small changes which are the largest.
4 comments:
This is GREAT. Thank you.
It was Danny's 53rd birthday today, too. He laid low, though the day seemed rather uneventful for him.
Love and BRAVO to Casey and you. Onwards & upwards!
This was a wonderful post. You tap into the inevitable sadness as well as joy inherent in life and all its changes. Of course there is no such thing as permanence; the only fixed points in time and space exist within our memories, which themselves prove unreliable as time's river carries us ever forward.
It's one thing to recognise and another to experience; it clearly wasn't easy to travel this section of the road but now you're through it, and it's documented in your mind and heart, so like all things it will make you stronger, wiser and more experienced in the ways and foibles of life's tapestry. Blessings to you, my dear friend. x
I'm glad I got to pop in for a little bit today and felt so torn leaving and not being able to see Casey graduate, I definately thought of you both today and was sending you love.
thanks for a lovely post on change and time passing....
xoFern
And I had dinner with Jim and got to look at all the changes...
I also kept looking for 'Slayer' t-shirts as it was International Slayer Day, but I saw nary a one.
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